Pretending
by Quinchberry
Summary: This is a story about finding yourself, about lies and deception and about how openness and love can eventually overcome them. This is a story about a lesbian teenager's struggle with her identity. More than anything this is Quinn Fabray's story.(Chapters 1 and 2 have early-installment weirdness, please wait at least until chapter 3 before condemning.)
1. Prologue: Masquerade

**Summary:** So, basically what we're doing here is this: we're starting at the beginning of Season 2 but we've taken what RIB do to the extreme. You know how character development is a kind of cyclical thing for them? Have you noticed how your favorite character will suddenly start acting awful again for no reason? Well we're stripping all our main characters of every bit of growth they've had over Season 1, that we can get away with, and starting over.

This is not intended to mirror Season 2 but there may be some references. Sam and Blaine will still exist, for example. Other things, like the Lucy Q incident, will be ignored. Thanks for joining us!

**A/N**: Faberry parts will be written by Quinchberry, Kublam parts will be written by Thatmakesyoumyequivalent.

**A/N 2**: Unfortunately, since we comprehend continuity, we do not own Glee or the characters depicted herein.

**Pairings: **Faberry and Hevans

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><p>For the most part, summer had gone magnificently for Quinn Charlotte Fabray. She had gotten back just about everything she wanted from the previous school year, except her virginity; there was no operation for that yet. With Beth spirited away by Shelby Corcoran to New York City it was like the entire previous year hadn't happened. Unfortunately, that applied to everything.<p>

'God must have a sarcastic sense of humor,' Quinn thought bitterly as she returned home on the last day of summer. She idled briefly at the door, unwilling to go inside. Rather than enter the blonde girl flounced down onto the lawn, carefully arranging her flowery skirt so it both concealed her legs and made it appear that the grass had burst into bloom. She knew that she was going to be late if she stayed outside, that she'd be flouting the newly-reinstated curfew, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned _he _was breaking the rules by being here at all.

Quinn pulled her phone out of the jury-rigged pocket on her bra, Santana did have good ideas occasionally, to look at the time. She closed the notification announcing that *surprise* she still had an ungodly amount of messages so she could focus on the small white 9:59 PM blinking in the corner instead. She waited as they changed to 10:00 and then at 10:01 precisely, the Fabray clocks were all perfectly in sync now, Quinn heard the front door slam open and a masculine voice shout out, "Quinn Fabray! You are late!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and exhaled in a huff before standing up. It was ok to do that now, while her father was around the corner, but as soon as she was within eyeshot she'd have to slip back into her mask. Quinn would have to be the 'perfect' daughter again; simpering, meek, and utterly spineless, willing to let her father mold her however he wished. Quinn ground her teeth, but this was something she was used to. Even after she had been kicked out she had never fully let go of her role. Rachel Berry thought she could act; Quinn Fabray knew she could.

The blonde plastered a demure smile on her face before heading towards her father, she resisted the urge to skip sarcastically around the corner, and spoke quietly and charmingly to the one man she actually hated, "Hello daddy, I'm so sorry for being late. Finn kept me longer than I expected." Quinn kept her arms behind her and stood quietly, waiting for acknowledgement. "That's quite alright Quinnie dear," Quinn grudgingly had to give her father credit; he was almost as good as her. The only outward sign of his displeasure was a slight tightening about the eyes, "your mother and I understand. Why, at your age your mother and I would often get our hides tanned for being out too late with each other," Quinn didn't miss the threat hidden behind her father's throaty chuckle. Living in Russell Fabray's house was like treading on eggshells, glass ones.

"Come inside: we've been waiting for you, and dinner's getting cold."

"I ate at the Hudson's," Quinn said, she knew full well that he just wanted a report. She also knew that her token resistance was worthless, but it probably wouldn't hurt to try

"Your mother worked so hard on it for you though, little lady." Quinn knew this translated to, "Get the hell into the dining room now," so she simply nodded and allowed Russell to escort her inside. She scowled behind his back as they walked briskly through the foyer. Quinn hated that all of the pictures of him, ones her mother had supposedly destroyed, had rematerialized the day her mother had forgiven the bastard.

Judy, her mother, was already seated of course. Just like everything else in this house she looked pristine, elegant, flawless, and Quinn knew she was likely one glass of wine away from dying of alcohol poisoning. That was one of the reasons why Mrs. Fabray didn't talk very much at home, that and the fact that she was the worst at keeping up their charade, one drunken word in error could shatter everything. So Judy Fabray stayed silent as her daughter entered the room and sat in front of her chilly plate of food.

"So how did everything go Quinnie-puff?" her father asked jovially. He was referring to her time at Finn's today; the culmination of a plan that had taken weeks to execute fully. A plan her father had put her up to.

"Well daddy," Russell insisted that she call him that, "Finn said that he was very sorry about how everything turned out last year, and that he was ready to let bygones be bygones." Quinn didn't think Finn actually knew what a bygone was, but she was paraphrasing.

"And?" Russell rumbled.

Quinn pulled on the cool metal links around her neck to bring up a small rose-shaped necklace. "He asked if I'd be willing to do the same and be his girlfriend again!" she mimicked excitement, even managing to blush a little bit for authenticity.

"That's wonderful Quinn, good for you. He's the star quarterback isn't he?" Russel raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yes daddy," as if he didn't know. Mr. Fabray had been more invested in wooing Finn than Quinn. Apparently mother dearest had explained that it wasn't actually poor, popular, manipulable Finn who had knocked up their little girl after all, it was that delinquent Jew Noah Puckerman. Russell had become much more interested in Finn then, after all, Fabrays only settled for the best.

As much as it killed her Quinn had to admit that her father and her were in agreement here. She certainly didn't love Finn, but she sure as hell was going to use him. When school started tomorrow Head Bitch In Charge Quinn Fabray was going to be back in full force. She had even managed to get herself back on the Cheerios; not just bottom of the pyramid either, she was the captain again. A simple tryout and a few words about Santana's newly-inflated bust and Coach Sylvester had welcomed Quinn back with open arms.

It hadn't been exceptionally difficult to break up Finn and Rachel either, thanks to San's loose morals and Brittany's looser tongue. Quinn knew how insecure the diva was, it was fairly obvious, and also that the tiny girl was fiercly protective of her claim on Finn. So, after hearing a few rumors from Brittany, a teary-eyed Quinn had shown up at the Berry household one day asking to talk to Rachel. The blonde recalled being simultaneously disgusted and pleased at how excited the brunette had been to have someone popular in her home. It was good to be appreciated now and then but Rachel had just been... excessive.

It had taken a good ten minutes before Quinn could get Rachel to shut up long enough to actually listen. "Rachel," she had choked the name out somehow, "there's something I think you deserve to know. Finn, he... he... slept with Santana." It had almost hurt to see the other girl's bubbly expression collapse, almost, but Quinn Fabray got what she wanted in the end no matter the cost. From what she had gathered from Finn, Rachel had torn him a new one and he had no choice but to break up with her, 'for his own protection.'

Quinn had, 'heard the news,' and rushed over to the Hudson's house after a sensible amount of time, about a day, so she could comfort the boy. Mrs. Hudson hadn't been entirely happy to see her but Finn had apparently been asking for Quinn anyway, so she let the blonde girl inside. He had been practically catatonic, lying in bed amidst a pile of magazines Quinn elected to overlook, when she came quietly into his room. Quinn had cleared her throat quietly to grab his attention and the tall boy had shot upwards, smiling dully. Quinn had to keep herself from snickering at the large palm-shaped bruise across his face.

After a little sympathizing and ego-stroking Finn had practically fallen back into her arms; but Quinn had waited. She needed him to want this badly enough that he wouldn't end up running back to Rachel after a single duet. It wouldn't be that hard though; Finn seemed to have a pathological need to have a girlfriend at all times. She just stayed close, dropping by to check up on him and lingering longer than might have strictly been necessary, and smiled sweetly and it wasn't long at all before Finn had been begging her to take him back. Mission accomplished.

"Quinnie, Quinnie?" her father's voice snapped her back to the present, "I asked you about that Hummel boy." Russell growled the name around a mouthful of food, he was the only one eating. "You aren't still hanging out with him and his subversive father are you? Honestly, I don't know how you ever let your standards slip so far."

"No daddy, I haven't seen him recently," Quinn answered demurely. It was the truth too. Quinn let herself sink back into her thoughts, she could maintain her mask without even trying by now, as her father launched into a rant about all the undesirables in Lima, specifically targeting the Hummels and Berrys. It was odd for Quinn. Listening to her father yell about Rachel and her fathers instinctively made her want to defend them, just to be contrary obviously.

She actually had been forming a friendship with Kurt though, one that she was going to genuinely miss. He and Mercedes had been inexplicably supportive of Quinn after her fall from glory the previous year. Mercedes had even gone so far as to offer her a place to stay after Finn had discovered the truth about Beth. They were one of the things Quinn was going to miss most once she was back on top; but they were still too low on the social ladder, even after their stint in the Cheerios.

Quinn doubted the pair really missed her though. The last few days they had spent together had mostly involved Kurt jabbering about some new kid in town who was, "obviously playing on my team." Quinn had mostly blocked that out, she didn't have to accept what Kurt did as right just because she was friends with him. She was pretty sure that this had made her seem distant and uninterested in the other two's conversations though.

The remainder of the dinner passed in relative silence, with only the occasional noise or rant from Russell to break it. Once he was done eating the two women stood and quietly cleared the table, cleaning was a female job, as he went to watch the television. They were interviewing Ann Coulter tonight on Fox and he couldn't miss that. Quinn let her mother bail relatively quickly, at her level of inebriation she was really more hindrance than help. After about thirty minutes, and a quick bite of bacon when no one was looking, Quinn headed to her room for bed.

"Quinn." Her father called before she could slip through the door. She stood there silently, waiting for whatever it was he had to say to her. "Your mother and I have been discussing the influences in your life," so he had decided this on his own, "and we agreed that most of your problems go back to one thing."

"And what's that daddy?" Quinn's throat clenched after she got the words out.

"That Glee group of yours," Quinn's heart dropped straight down into her stomach, "I took a look at the roster and realized that not only does it have the Hummel boy and the queerspawn Berry in it, but it also includes that alcoholic Jewish delinquent Puckerman. I can't even comprehend why you'd consider going back. It's no fit place for my young lady. I expect you to quit first thing tomorrow morning," Russel appeared thoughtful for a moment, "See if you can get Hudson to follow. The last thing that group of loonies needs is more popular attention." Russell picked up his glass and took a long sip of the amber liquid inside. The conversation was obviously over to him.

Quinn knew it was useless to fight a direct declaration like this, no matter how much it hurt. "Yes daddy," she murmured before slinking back into the comforting darkness of her room.

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	2. Chapter 1: Unveiled

Pretending (Title subject to change.)

Chapter 1

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

A/N: We still don't own Glee.

A/N 2: This chapter went un-beta'd, please pardon my errors.

"Why do I want us to quit Glee?" Quinn mimicked Finn's question. It was the first day of school and she was driving them in her Father's Lexus sedan. She had always found it odd that Finn wouldn't drive, but every time she asked the boy just mumbled something vague about a court order and a mailman. Quinn didn't usually mind, but Finn was being particularly difficult today, "I want us to quit Glee, Finn, because we lost." For what it was worth, Quinn kept her irritation masked. Finn might not have been the smartest kid in school, but he was genuinely sweet; he didn't deserve her anger.

"I don't get it," of course he didn't, Quinn rolled her eyes, "Like, I never quit football just because we lost; and I've kinda got the same position in Glee as I do on the field, right?" Quinn shook her head gently but didn't take her eyes off the road.

"Football's different Finn. Football made you popular no matter how horribly you did," Quinn bit her tongue for a second, sparing a glance to see if her boyfriend had caught the accidental slur. He hadn't. Finn was just staring, waiting for her to continue, "Glee, on the other hand, is a different story. We were unpopular even while we were winning, nothing we did made any difference to Azimio and Karofsky's thugs. Now that we've actually lost, New Directions is going to be public enemy number one."

"But what about Rachel," Quinn's stomach tightened when her boyfriend mentioned the dwarf, "and those other guys? Like you said, things are only going to get worse. They'll be eaten alive without us there. You know they will!" Quinn knew he was right, but it wasn't like she had a choice. She hadn't wanted to quit, her father was forcing her into it. "Besides, I thought we both kinda liked it now."

What Quinn didn't like, though, was Finn's persistent worrying about Rachel. Things would be so much easier if she could somehow get him to just ignore Berry until the smurf inevitably ran off to New York. Then she wouldn't have to be concerned about her boyfriend's wandering eye. "Look Finn, Rachel dumped you," quite viciously, and in a situation Quinn had carefully engineered too, "You don't owe her anything at all. I am your girlfriend now." Quinn put heavy emphasis on the last few words.

"Besides, they still have Puckerman and Mike." Quinn continued, "They're both in football too." She could almost feel the temperature dropping when she brought up Puck. Finn had never fully forgiven him for babygate and, to be honest, Quinn couldn't really blame him. Not that he had been fully faithful to her either. She had wrung a confession out of Finn about the times he had kissed Rachel while they were together. Quinn shuddered, the thought of Finn making out with the hobbit was unsettling.

"I," Finn looked puzzled as they pulled into the parking lot. It wasn't very crowded. In fact; Quinn had left early to make sure she didn't have to deal with first-day traffic, "I guess that's true. They can probably handle it. If it's that important to you then... I'll quit Glee too. They'll probably get some new recruits anyway, right?" Quinn slid the car smoothly into a parking spot, switched the humming engine off, and turned to smile warmly at Finn.

"Thank you." Quinn said sincerely, she really didn't think she could do this alone. Even if it was just Finn helping her along, at least she wouldn't be going solo. She pulled him into a brief hug, "It really means a lot to me Finn. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" They didn't have any classes together before then.

"Alright Quinn, I love you." Finn smiled as he got out of the car.

"Love you too," Quinn mumbled quietly. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about Finn. He was sweet, and popular, and clearly interested in her, but she had never actually felt much for him. She enjoyed being around him in a friendly sort of way. She just didn't think it would develop any further than that. Even if it did, Quinn didn't think it would really matter. Berry would probably just snap him right up again. Quinn seethed silently, shifting in her seat, she couldn't stand Finn's infatuation with the girl.

At the same time though, Quinn couldn't fault him for it. It was hard to resist when a girl was throwing herself at you, and the little troll had certainly been doing enough of that last year. Quinn could even admit, objectively of course, that despite her appalling fashion sense Berry was fairly attractive. All Quinn could hope for was that she'd be scandalized enough by the Santana affair to stay well away from Finn. The blonde tugged her lower lip between her teeth, lost in thought.

She was snapped out of it by a loud rapping on the roof of her car, and she barely restrained a yelp of surprise. Sue Sylvester was standing outside, grinning macabrely, and pounding at the shining metal. "Hey there Q," the coach said, "why don't you come and walk with me for a while?" Quinn scrambled from the car, she knew that nothing Sylvester said was ever a request.

"So I heard from a certain greasy-haired simian that you've up and abandoned his merry band of mouth-breathers," Quinn had sent Mr. Schuester an e-mail the previous night. Russell hadn't given her any other choice. "Well good for you," Sylvester was practically beaming, "For a while I had feared you'd gone native on me. You almost looked like you were enjoying the ritualistic war chants at that farce of a competition last year. I understand that you, in particular, flew into such a frenzied passion that you nearly dropped your spawn right there on the stage."

Quinn winced at the glancing mention of Beth, but Sue didn't notice anything. Shelby had promised to stay in touch but she hadn't been living up to the agreement. Quinn hadn't realized that she would miss the baby she'd seen for all of five seconds so much. It really didn't matter any more though. Russell preferred to pretend the pregnancy had never happened. Beth was just another painful memory to hide under the mask.

"Yes Miss Sylvester, I quit Glee Club. My family and I decided that it was really a negative influence." Sue strolled into the building at a brisk pace with Quinn following just behind her. Other students cringed out of the way of the tracksuit-clad woman and her pupil. Quinn had to admit, it felt good. She had missed having this sort of power over the other students in the school. No one was going to be intimidated by you when you looked like there was a bowling ball stuffed under your shirt.

"Well I'm glad to hear that Q, because we're going to take them down. Again. This way I can count on your full support."

Quinn blinked rapidly, slightly bewildered, "But... Coach Sylvester... You saved Glee last year." She wasn't quite as surprised as she sounded though. Quinn knew that Sue had a few screws loose. Flip-flopping on wiping out Glee was a normal eccentricity for the coach.

"Yes Fabray," Sue looked down at her student with a condescending smirk, "I did stop Figgins from rounding the lot of you up in front of a firing squad. Why? Because I haven't had as much fun as I did grinding you into the dust since I was twelve, helping my parents beat back the undercover Nazi invasion." Sue appeared lost in memory for a few moments, moments Quinn used to compose herself. She had accepted that she would have to quit Glee, her father had made that abundantly clear, and she had even accepted that this was probably going to keep the club from qualifying at Sectionals; but actively trying to destroy it? That was an entirely different story.

"So, yes, I saved Glee just to destroy it again this year." Sue shrugged, malevolently smiling, "It livens up my daily routine. Now," Sue glanced at her watch, "get to whatever class you have kiddo. I'll fill you in on the details of my scheme after school today." Sue strode on through the crowded halls, leaving a slightly befuddled Quinn behind.

The rest of the school day was mostly uneventful, which was nice. It meant that she didn't have to wash corn syrup and stinging ice from her hair for the first school day in a long time. Quinn wished she could say the same for the rest of the Glee kids, even if she had ordered a few of the slushyings herself. She hadn't been able to watch when they happened, she knew how it felt all too well for that.

She was avoiding going home now, just wandering the halls. She didn't want to spend any more time dealing with the icy tension at home than she had to. She didn't think her absence would end up mattering though, she'd just blame it on Finn's football practice and Russell would smile and nod and pretend that he actually gave a damn about his daughter. Quinn shuddered with silent rage, there was no one here to see her mask slip, both at the nightmare that had shoved its way back into her life and at the, 'loving mother,' that had allowed it to do so.

Quinn slipped quietly into the empty choir room, Glee was already out, and sat down at the piano bench. She peered around cautiously, making sure no one was there, before lightly setting her fingers on the keys. Knowing how to play was one of the few things she was glad her father had taught her, and it was one of the only things that she could still do to relax. Quinn experimentally pressed a few keys before starting an actual melody. 'Taking Chances,' was always a song she had liked.

After a few bars of lonely ivory tinkling echoed around the room a voice cut in, but not Quinn's. This voice came from the entryway to the room, the one behind Quinn. She could tell who it was anyway, only one person at Mckinley had a voice that pitch-perfect.

"So what do you say to taking chances?" Rachel sang along until Quinn stopped pressing keys. The blonde spun around on the piano bench so she could see the other girl. Rachel was, of course, dressed as only she could be, in knee high socks, a short skirt, and an animal sweater. Quinn silently looked the other girl up and down, waiting for Rachel to cave and say something first. It didn't take long.

"You're very good Quinn," the cheerleader's jaw dropped slightly, compliments had been the last thing she was expecting, "and I'd just like to applaud your musical selection, Taking Chances is one of my favorite songs." Rachel trailed off and silence awkwardly filled the room before Quinn spoke.

"What do you want, Ra-Berry?" Quinn caught her tongue, she was the little troll's enemy more than ever now. First names were for friends.

"I heard you quit Glee, that and you weren't at practice today. I was surprised, really." Rachel was speaking quietly, like she was afraid of shattering the peaceful stillness that had come over the room when Quinn had started playing the piano. "I was under the impression that you had come to enjoy it."

The piercing comment put Quinn on the defensive. "So you've been stalking me? To try and beg me to come back?" Quinn snapped. Rachel had done this sort of thing before. Actually, Rachel did that every time Quinn tried to leave.

"N-no, I just heard the piano playing a-and I came to see who it was." Rachel's voice trembled nervously, had she expected this conversation to go well? Quinn rose from the piano bench and slowly approached the brunette. "And when I saw it was you well... I-I-I wanted to thank you..."

"For what? Less competition? We all know you love the spotlight."

"You were never competition for me Quinn," Rachel's voice tinged with anger for a brief second, "No," she said to herself, "I didn't come in here to fight with you. I just wanted to thank you for revealing Finn's infidelity. I was fairly certain that I wouldn't get another chance to do that since you're abandoning us!" Rachel's voice steadily increased in volume as she spoke, never quite reaching a yell. She sounded more desperate than angry.

"You think I want to do this!" Quinn snapped, stepping even closer to Rachel before realizing what she had just said. She hadn't been able to help it, there was just something about the irritating girl that cracked Quinn's defenses wide open. As realization bloomed in Rachel's chocolatey brown, Quinn suddenly wondered how they had gotten close enough together to be able to pick out specific shades, eyes she realized that all she could attempt was damage control.

"You mean someone's making you?"

"No-I..."

"Is it Sue?"

"It isn't..." Quinn was shut off by another torrent of words.

"Your mother? Your father? I heard he was back, the local gay community's buzzing about it." At least Rachel wasn't making eye contact anymore, she was pacing back and forth as she ranted, it was much easier to put a coherent sentence together this way. "I could maybe..."

"God, Treasure Trail, you're so stupid." Quinn knew she was just lashing out, but it wasn't like she had any other choice. Berry was just seeing way too much and Quinn didn't feel like she could string two thoughts together. She was panicking. "I was trying to be funny Man Hands, of course I wanted to do this." Quinn recognized how weak the explanation was, but it didn't matter. She hadn't called Berry names in months and her insults had clearly gotten to the smaller girl. Hopefully she'd be thrown off the trail.

"I just wanted to thank you about Finn! For being willing to tell me the truth, Quinn!" Rachel really was angry now and Quinn thought she could see the beginnings of tears welling up in the brunette's eyes. Honestly, what had Rachel expected? They had never been friends. The high point in their interactions had been grudging toleration, "I found out today that everyone knew. Everyone! But no one thought it was important to tell me," Rachel laughed bitterly, "I mean, he was only my boyfriend. Why would I want to know he was lying to me about his virginity." Quinn felt a twinge of guilt, her motivations for telling Rachel had been completely selfish.

The diva shook her head sadly, voice mellowing again "That's not the point though, Quinn. You were honest with me when no one else was and I just wanted to let you know I appreciated that. That's all." That hurt, a lot. Quinn knew the last thing she deserved praise for was honesty. Hell, she herself could barely tell which parts of her life were a lie at this point.

Rachel had turned to go, but she looked back for a moment, "I still don't hate you, Quinn. I don't know why you're pushing everyone away but I've seen the real Quinn once or twice and, if you ever let her out, I think we'd actually be fantastic friends." The brunette paused for a moment, considering something, "If you ever want to tell someone why you really quit Glee I'll be here for you. Here." Rachel thrust a scrap of paper into Quinn's hands before practically running out the door.

Quinn opened her mouth to respond, but Rachel had already gone. She looked down at the paper, staring in confusion at the phone number hastily scribbled on it. Had Man-hands really just given her her number? Quinn's lips flapped uselessly for a few moments as she tried to figure out what just happened. How could Berry be so perceptive? No one, except for Russell, was able to just see straight through her mask so effortlessly. Every time Quinn was alone with Rachel she just felt like her mental reflexes were dulled, like her lies were transparent, like the only way she had left to defend her secrets was by hurting Rachel to drive her away.

Quinn wondered if driving the dwarf away was the best option though. After all, Rachel had seemed genuine in her offer; she practically knew what was going on already already thanks to Quinn's slip of tongue. Even if Berry didn't keep what she was told a secret no one would dare believe her. Besides, it would be better than only having Finn to talk to and Quinn couldn't even tell him everything. But... No, Quinn couldn't do it. Rachel was her enemy, always had been, and that was how it was supposed to be.

A nagging voice at the back of her head made Quinn slip the paper into her pocket anyway.

"Fabray? What are you doing in here?" Santana's voice took Quinn by surprise, "Actually, nevermind, you look a little too broody for me to really care." The resentment in the other cheerleader's voice was obvious. Quinn was fairly certain Santana had guessed exactly who was responsible for the loss of her captaincy and quitting Glee probably hadn't earned her any good faith either. "Sylvester's had me running all over the school looking for you. Forget your appointment much?" Santana smirked at the blonde.

Quinn kept herself from responding for a moment, despite beating herself up inside her head. Was everything after school going to go wrong today? When she did speak it was slowly and calmly, allowing her to reassemble her composure from the shattered mess Rachel had left it in. "Well then, we had better not keep her waiting." Santana frowned as Quinn swept past her, apparently she had been hoping for a fight.

Fortunately Sue's office wasn't far from the choir room, Santana must have just checked everywhere else first. It made sense, Quinn really didn't have a reason to be in there, but she still enjoyed that Santana seemed irritated by it. Coach Sylvester's irritation, however, was a different matter though and Santana didn't waste any time outing Quinn. "She was in the choir room Miss Sylvester," the Latina chimed cheerfully as the girls walked through the door.

Sue's eyes narrowed suspiciously but she seemed to dismiss whatever she had been considering. "Unimportant," the older woman said from her seat behind the desk, "We can begin now. As you ladies both know, we are here to re-declare war on the Glee club. Our first campaign was a brilliant success and it was only through my benevolent mercy that Schuester and his motley crew still exist." Quinn inwardly groaned, sometimes she wished Sylvester would just cut to the chase. "This time, that mercy will not be extended again."

"Shouldn't Brittany be here Miss Sylv-"

"Quiet! Coach is speaking!" Becky cut Santana off.

"At ease, Becky. Sandbags has a decent question," Sue's comment was accompanied by a pointed stare at Santana's enhanced assets, "Brittany is not here because the same lack of intelligence that makes her a fantastic cheerleader." Quinn noticed Santana's glare, even if Sue didn't, "makes her equally unsuited for the more complex strategy I have in store."

"Now," Sue said, "Quinn, you get excellent grades, how does one defeat an enemy?"

Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes, She'd heard Sue talk about this before "You cut off the head," she recited dutifully.

"Precisely!" Sue crowed, "The most effective way to eliminate anything is to cut off the head, or leaders, or leaders' heads." Quinn and Santana exchanged concerned looks with each other.

"So, we're going to get rid of Mister Schuester somehow?" Santana asked, eyeing Becky.

Sue snorted, "That greasy-haired charlatan couldn't carry them to victory if his job depended on it, literally. You failed specatcularly last year." There was something almost perverse about how cheerful Sue sounded, "I'm talking about their leading hobbit, the fruit girl, Berry! That's the one."

"We're going to cut off her head coach?" Becky asked.

"No Becky, we're just going to crush her spirit." Quinn felt an odd chill come over her as Sue spoke, "When we're done Rachel Berry will never want to sing again."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" Quinn snapped, drawing Sue's slightly manic gaze.

"It's simple, Q. I've tried to get rid of the pint-sized powerhouse before but I realize now I've been going about it all wrong." Quinn recalled the brief period of time Rachel had quit Glee to work on the school play. "She's already at rock bottom, scuttling about with all the dogged tenacity of a cockroach, there's no way for me to crush her right now. She has nothing to lose."

"No, to get a clear shot at Berry we need to first give her what she really wants, what she craves even more than the affections of that oversized simian Hudson." Sue continued.

Quinn saw where the coach was headed, "We need to make her popular."

"Outstanding," Sue was practically glowing with pride, "and the best way to do that," Sue inhaled deeply, clearly just for dramatic effect, "is to make her a Cheerio." A self-satisfied smirk settled on the coach's face

Quinn had to admit, it made sense. Berry had been dancing and performing since she was born, if she was to be believed. Rachel wouldn't threaten the Cheerio's survival at all, she might even help it. Rachel would get everything she wanted; friends, popularity, acceptance, "and then, once she's hooked..." Quinn didn't realize she was speaking aloud.

"We get her to miss out on Glee's pathetic little Sectionals, leaving them at least one star short. Then we'll drop her like an atomic bomb on the ruined ashes of their hopes and dreams." Sue finished Quinn's sentence for her, "and Glee will never recover." Quinn could practically hear the evil laugh in Sue's tone.

Quinn felt uneasy, though she kept the emotion out of her voice, "Who's going to invite Berry to come and try out? We've made it pretty clear she wasn't welcome here before."

Sue just grinned at her, "Why Q, thank you for volunteering. In addition, I think you're going to get to be her mentor. She had better not end up costing us a championship," Sue leered at Quinn's dumbstruck expression a moment before speaking, "You two are going to be very best friends. Dismissed." She spun her chair around and Becky ushered the two other girls out.

Once in the hall Santana and Quinn went their separate ways without even looking at each other. Quinn wished there were something she could do to fix things with San. Back in elementary and middle school they had been best friends. Quinn sighed, looking over her shoulder at the other girl. It was just another regret she had no hope of solving.

She fished the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. Something about this plan didn't sit right with her. Sue had never forced her minions into anything this personal before. Rachel hadn't even done anything to deserve Sue's wrath.

Still, she didn't have a choice. Quinn didn't doubt that Sylvester would cut her from the Cheerios as easily as she had discussed doing the same to Rachel, and she couldn't let that happen. The atmosphere at home was strained enough when she was doing exactly what her father wanted. She didn't want to know what would happen if 'their' plan went even slightly off track.

Quinn stored the number in her phone before putting it away. She didn't have to do anything yet.

Reviews are appreciated


	3. Chapter 2: Invitations

Pretending (Title subject to change.)

Chapter 2

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

A/N: We still don't own Glee.

A/N 2: Don't have a beta, all horrible mistakes in grammar and spelling are the sole fault of Quinchberry

"And I don't want the world to see me,

Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am."

Quinn hummed along to the music blaring from her radio, laying back on the dark red covers of her bed. For once, though, she wasn't worried about the radio's volume; Russell and Judy were both out of town on a business trip. They had left their daughter with a handful of money and thinly veiled warnings about the acceptable ways to spend it before rushing out. Quinn hadn't had this much fun in months.

She wasn't acting out; there were no parties or secret make-out sessions planned. The feeling of not having to tiptoe around her dad's feelings or her mother's loosened inhibitions just overwhelmed her. She could finally be herself, no masks required. It was more exhilarating than Quinn had remembered. There was one little detail nagging at the back of her mind though.

Quinn still hadn't called Rachel, or even texted her, and the first Cheerios practice was coming up after school on Thursday. That gave her less than two days to whip the smurf into shape. Quinn knew Coach Sylvester would hold her responsible if Berry slowed the Cheerios down at all. She rolled over, groaning into a pillow. It wasn't fair! Santana didn't have to get cozy with her worst enemy!

Again, though, Quinn didn't have a choice. If she got kicked from the squad Russell would have a full-scale meltdown. Quinn could even picture him confronting Sue about it. She shuddered, a chill running down her spine. That was a fight she didn't think anyone wanted to see. Except maybe Berry, Quinn had humiliated her enough, it was only natural for the diva to want payback.

Rachel had said that she didn't want to fight anymore though...

Quinn's crooning ringtone drove the errant thought from her mind before it could get anywhere. Berry probably just didn't want to fight because she kept losing. Quinn doubted the smurf would be as forgiving if their positions were reversed. She silenced the radio as she retrieved her cell. She flipped it open and put it to her ear without looking at the caller ID.

"Rachel?" The name slipped out without thinking. Quinn cursed silently at herself, obviously thinking about man-hands for any length of time was unhealthy. She had hobbit on the brain.

A sarcastic snort was all Quinn needed to know who was on the other end of the line. "Close enough, we're both hot Jews," Quinn rolled her eyes, "This is your Puckasaurus speaking. There a reason we're talking about Berry?"

Quinn took a moment to stifle a groan and compose herself before speaking, Puck wasn't anywhere near trustworthy enough to slip up with. "No Puckerman, just a brain fail on my part. What do you want?" They weren't on great terms anymore, Puck had fallen back in with a bad crowd over the summer. Even if the Beth fiasco hadn't happened there was still a good chance Puck would be banned from the Fabray household anyway.

"Dunno if she's already contacted you, but..." Quinn could practically hear the leer on Puck's face, "Thought you should know that your surrogate's back in town. Looks like Shelby wasn't cut out for the big city after all" Quinn inhaled sharply, Shelby was supposed to keep Beth far away from Lima. Sure, Quinn had been annoyed that Shelby hadn't kept in touch; but her baby wasn't supposed to grow up in this hellhole of a town! Worse than that; Quinn couldn't fathom how her father, dead-set as he was on pretending nothing had happened, would deal with real evidence that she'd been pregnant.

Quinn inhaled deeply, rubbing her head with her free hand. Apparently God wasn't willing to give her a break. "How long has she been here, Puck? Where is she staying?" She would have bothered sounding grateful if she had thought Puck had any positive motivations at all.

"Got off the plane two days ago, from what she told me. Are you sure she didn't try and get in touch with you?" Quinn could hear the smug superiority oozing from Puck's voice. Shelby hadn't done anything to let her know though and, if she had told Puck, that meant Shelby was avoiding Quinn. She just couldn't understand why.

"Puck," Quinn switched her voice into full HBIC mode, "Where. Is. Shelby. Corcoran?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist baby momma, I was going to tell you." Puck paused for a moment, "You should let me know when you go over there though. The catfight ought to be really fucking hot."

"Just tell me already, Puck!"

"Fine, someone must have stolen your sense of humor," Puck grumbled, "She's at Berry's place."

Rachel.

Of course it came back to fucking Rachel, didn't everything else? She had lost Finn because of Rachel. She had to quit Glee because of Rachel and her gay dads. She had to go and recruit Rachel or she'd be kicked off the Cheerios. It only made sense that Shelby would take up residence in the goddamned troll's house.

Quinn hung up on Puck with a strangled, "Bye." It wasn't exactly subtle, but it was the best she could do without shrieking at the phone. It looked like she'd be having her chat with Berry a lot sooner than she planned.

She took a few minutes to calm herself though. She couldn't just go charging over there. Quinn didn't know how Rachel or, heaven forbid, her fathers would react to her being there at all. Even Shelby was avoiding her for some reason or another. The courteous thing to do would be to call ahead; and Quinn really didn't have another choice.

Flipping open her phone, Quinn scrolled down the contact list till she reached the entry. 'Rachel 3.' She smirked a little at the heart, it was sarcastic of course, she had put there to show what good, 'friends,' they were going to be. Then the reality of her situation set back in and Quinn, frowning, pushed the call button.

She only held the phone loosely to her ear while it rang, mentally preparing herself. She had to keep complete control of herself this time. One cruel name or slipped secret could ruin everything. It shouldn't be that hard. Rachel wasn't even in the same room as Quinn. Surely whatever bizarre mind-warping effect Rachel had on her wouldn't apply over the phone, right?

"This is Rachel Barbara Berry, daughter of Hiram Wallace Berry and Leroy Alleman Berry speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Well, Rachel was certainly just as noisy over the phone. Quinn opened her mouth to comment, but beat back the insult. She was trying to be nice!

"Hello?" Rachel said.

"Ber-Rachel? Th-th-this is Quinn." The blonde stammered. Great, this was already going fantastically. Gritting her teeth, she continued a little more smoothly. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Lovely!" Rachel's enthusiasm stunned Quinn into silence for a moment. Did the diva even remember how their last encounter had gone? The yelling? The insults? Was Rachel so desperate for company that she'd forgive anything? "I never have guests over, you are coming over, right?" The pleading tone in Rachel's voice made Quinn squirm uncomfortably.

"Well, yeah but-"

"Fantastic, I'll have daddy cook something special up right away, it should be ready by the time you arrive. Is there anything vegan you like Quinn? I'm afraid we don't have anything else to choose from. Of course, it wouldn't be that difficult for one of us to run to the supermarket and pick something.."

"Rachel, look." Quinn cut across the chatter, "I'm not planning on," she bit her tongue, rephrasing the sentence into something more polite, "I can't stay very long today. I just have to meet with you. Briefly."

"Oh. Ok then... I understand" The disappointment in Rachel's voice was palpable, and Quinn reacted without thinking.

"Definitely some other time though."

"Really?"

"I-uh," Quinn wasn't sure how to proceed, apparently she couldn't even talk to Berry normally over the phone. Saying no now would wreck the masquerade entirely but, at the same time, she had no idea how she'd handle spending an entire afternoon or, heaven forbid, a sleepover at the smurf's lair. "eh-Sure?" It was the only option. If she was lucky Berry would just forget about it.

"Look, Rachel, I'll be right over. Okay? Just, don't do anything crazy."

"Quinn, you know as well as I do that I'm not..."

"Goodbye!" Quinn snapped as she hung up the phone. She let herself fall backwards on her mattress, groaning loudly. Talking to Rachel always seemed to make things worse.

Quinn wondered if it had something to do with Glee. After all, Rachel was practically the team mascot. She was small, unpopular, annoying, persistent, talented, and deep down inside Quinn really...

She shut down her own train of thought, a shiver running down her spine at the thought of loving or even missing Rachel. Obviously the analogy was flawed. Quinn had enjoyed being in Glee, she had never liked Rachel. She never would like Rachel. This whole thing was just an assignment.

The butterflies in Quinn's stomach as she prepared to leave were also easily explained away. The price of failure here was disastrous, and the job wasn't easy. Quinn, one of Rachel's greatest rivals, had to convince the diva to join a group that had been openly hostile to her just days ago. Any sane human being would be nervous.

Quinn realized that she couldn't delay any longer though. She grit her teeth together, forcing herself downstairs and out the front door; directly into the drizzling rain. She cursed silently. Her music had been on so loud that she hadn't even noticed the weather, and the telephone conversations sure as hell hadn't helped her focus either. Quinn sprinted out from under the slight overhang, darting for the dim gold silhouette of the car, and slipped quickly into the front seat. It wasn't enough. The pervasive mist in the air had plastered her hair to her head and dampened her clothing, a condition that was only going to worsen when she got out at Berry's.

At least the drive itself was uneventful, though Quinn felt it passed by far too quickly, and the car rolled smoothly into the Berry's driveway. She had been surprised by the size of the house the first time she came over. The small white home seemed positively boring for someone with Rachel's levels of energy. She paused for a moment longer; this was her last chance to back out, to take her chances with Russell and Sue rather than whatever it was Rachel did to her. With a defeated sigh, Quinn grudgingly dragged herself from the heated interior of her car into the suffocating wetness and made her way to the door.

She could hear Rachel's muffled voice wafting from the upper floor even through the rain. Apparently the family's soundproofing wasn't as good as Berry claimed. Slowly, tentatively, Quinn stretched out her finger and pressed the doorbell…

She was almost surprised when it rang normally, though she couldn't have said what she was expecting from a doorbell. Rachel's singing stopped immediately, of course, and Quinn could hear her yelling, "Don't answer the door! I've got it! I've got it." Quinn huddled against herself, the rain had increased in intensity during the drive, as the source of the noise approached the door. She wouldn't have cared if it was her own father opening the door if it got her out of the downpour.

The door practically burst outward and Quinn rushed past the short brunette holding the door, shivering as she dripped on the tiles. It took her a moment to notice Rachel talking, though she knew it shouldn't have surprised her, and even longer to actually start listening. "-you didn't want us to make dinner for you but we started a few different dishes anyway so hopefully there'll be something that you like. Shelby's over at Carmel for the night, trying to get her job back," Quinn heard some hurt there, "so it'll just be you, me, and my daddies for as long as you're here. If you'll follow me…" Rachel actually looked over at Quinn for the first time since the cheerleader had come inside.

"Oh, Quinn," The brunette's voice had actual concern in it, "You're drenched… D-did you forget an umbrella? Never mind, follow me." The shorter girl seized Quinn's hand and started towing her along. The blonde was surprised that she hadn't instinctively recoiled at Berry's touch, but chalked it up to early onset hypothermia.

Rachel dragged Quinn through the house far too quickly for the blonde to take in any details, not that she cared; she had been through here once before anyway, which made two times too many. In rapid succession Quinn blew through a kitchen; a hallway; some kind of music room, littered with records and sheet music; a living room where a large, and rather scary, black man reclined on the couch; and up the stairs to a star-studded door. A few heartbeats later Quinn was standing inside Rachel's room, the Fortress of Smurfitude itself.

The Cheerio only realized Rachel had released her hand when her own fist tightened in another shivering spasm. She idly hoped that her fingernails hadn't bitten into Rachel's arm the way they were cutting at her palm now, anything that put the troll in a worse mood would make Quinn's job that much harder. She stood silently, watching Rachel dig through her closet for something, wondering what she could possibly say to start the conversation. Nothing seemed appropriate, most of the ideas she had thought up on the drive over had involved a Rachel who was decidedly less friendly, and she was incredibly self conscious of the fact that she hadn't said a word since entering Rachel's house.

"Got it!" Rachel chirped as she pulled her hand from beneath a huge pile of clothing. "I always knew it would be a good idea to hang on to some of the oversized clothes grandmother sends." As she saw the big, green, animal-print sweater Rachel was holding out to her Quinn caught on.

"Berry, there is no way I'm ever wearing that." Quinn said flatly.

So much for starting off well.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Rachel was still proffering the sweater, "You just seemed so cold. A-and I really don't have anything else that will fit you." The diva pushed the garment forward insistently, but Quinn could see a spark of uncertain fear in her eyes. She smacked herself mentally. She had to make Rachel like her and she still couldn't do anything but insult the smaller girl..

In the end it was another trickle of icy water from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine that made up Quinn's mind for her. As hideous as the sweater undoubtedly was, at least it looked warm. She took the sweater, and the pants Rachel handed her afterwards, with a mumbled, "Thanks," as she headed to the bathroom to change.

"Shelby's not home tonight, if that's why you're here," Rachel said quietly as Quinn re-entered the room. Quinn appreciated that the diva didn't laugh out loud, she had seen herself in the mirror, but Rachel seemed to have run out of energy while Quinn changed. "She and Beth are in Carmel for a few days. I think she's trying to get her old job back." The small girl sounded positively betrayed, and Quinn could understand why. Her boyfriend had cheated on her, her mother was more interested in a job than reconnecting with her daughter, and from what Quinn had heard; Glee club was almost coming apart at the seams.

"Rachel," Quinn said, tentatively taking a seat next to the singer on the bed, "I came here to talk to you." It wasn't entirely a lie. True, the news about Shelby had given her the final push, but she really did have to talk to Berry. Still, Quinn felt somewhat guilty about the spark of earnest hope that leapt to Rachel's eyes. She tightened her mental grip on herself. She couldn't afford to let pointless feelings for a loser like Berry interfere. Turning to look at Rachel, Quinn forced a smile.

"What did you want to talk to me about? Is this about Glee? About why you left?"

"No," Quinn said, trying to think of a way to tactfully avoid the subject, "I-I just don't think I'm ready to talk about that." That was good, if she could string Rachel along with that bait there was less of a chance for everything to fall apart. It wasn't even a lie and Berry certainly looked concerned. "I'm actually here to extend you an invitation."

"For what?" Rachel was uncharacteristically silent for once.

Quinn inhaled deeply, bracing herself. "Why, to the Cheerios of course…" She prepared herself from a derisive snort or some sort of long-winded rebuttal but, instead, Rachel remained silent for quite some time. Quinn noticed, however, a smile slowly spreading across the smaller girls face and a quiet laugh building in her throat.

"Me? A-a-a Cheerio? Are you serious Quinn? I mean, why me?" The excitement in Rachel's voice grew with each word. "Obviously I have some degree of physical talent that would be of use to the squad but I've never exactly seen eye to eye with most of you," She looked upward sheepishly at Quinn, "sorry."

"Popularity is fluid Berry." Quinn grinned internally, she had her, "You remember how fast I fell from grace last year. You've seen how quickly I've recovered these past few days. That could be you." She looked Rachel straight in the eyes, "You've been scrounging at the bottom of the heap since elementary school, Rachel. Say yes and I'll be able to pull you up," she shrugged, "You won't even have to quit Glee."

Rachel appeared lost in thought for a moment but then, with a yelp of happiness and a giggle, she grabbed Quinn in a hug.

And Quinn's head nearly exploded.

After the pregnancy she hadn't been comfortable with this much physical contact with anyone, not even her boyfriend Finn. She hadn't thought she needed to worry about it though; most of the people she knew weren't this… affectionate. What really threw Quinn off though was how… nice… it felt. Just to sit there and let someone else's arms wrap around her, as though she didn't have to hold herself together on her own.

That it was Treasure Trail inspiring that feeling worried Quinn.

She gently removed herself from the embrace and scooted slightly away on the bedside, "So, ah, I take it that was a yes?"

"Yes." The smaller girl nodded vigorously.

"Great. The first practice is Thursday after school, you'll pick up your uniform there." Quinn teetered uncomfortably on the edge of the bed for a moment, Berry usually didn't let awkward silences hang that long. "That's about it… I should probably get going…" The sudden thunderclap accentuated the stupidity of that idea.

"Quinn, you were practically dead when I brought you inside and you weren't even out there that long. I can't just let you go out in this kind of weather after what you're doing for me. Besides, if you leave now all the food we made will go to waste." Rachel continued rattling off a list of reasons for Quinn to stay as the blonde groaned. She didn't even have a good reason to go home, her parents wouldn't get back for another two nights. Rachel was also right, she really didn't want to go back out in that storm again.

She shuddered quietly as she slowly nodded to Rachel. It looked like Quinn would be spending an unexpected night in the Berry home.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 3: Popular

A/N: Dearest, darlingest, fellow Faberrians: I'm aware that I hardly update this anyway but you should all know that it's probably going to be updated even less than usual. My ability to internet is going to be extremely limited for a few years. That said: I will finish all three years of this fic if it takes me until I'm ninety and any potential fanbase has long passed away.

Thank you for your patience

Chapter 3

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Quinn was utterly terrified. Rachel had abandoned her at the bottom of the stairs, nattering something about her daddy burning dinner, with the most imposing man she had ever met.

"Hello Miss Fabray," the tall African-American rumbled, "We need to talk, you and I. Why don't you have a seat," he gestured to a pair of brown leather armchairs. Quinn was only able to nod and walk quietly, shivering in her borrowed sweater, to the chair. She didn't know what to think. When she had heard that Rachel's parents were gay she had pictured waifs like Kurt, not this strong lean black man with a speaking voice that shook the earth.

"As you've probably guessed," he began, settling into the seat opposite Quinn, "I am one of Rachel's fathers." The man steepled his fingers together, pausing briefly before proceeding. "Rachel calls me Papa, my friends call me Hiram, but you..." Rachel's father looked Quinn up and down with a flat stare that made her shiver more than the cold, "You, Miss Fabray, may call me Mr. Berry."

Quinn didn't usually get intimidated; not by her teachers, not by Sue, not even by her father; but this was different. Hiram was giving her shelter, clothing, and even food; Quinn would have hated doing that for someone who had tortured her child. She trembled in her chair again, hoping she could pass it off as the cold. This was a man who had every right to detest her. She nodded silently once again, avoiding eye-contact.

"I'm not going to be gentle, Miss Fabray," The grown man sighed in frustration, "I have, after all, heard horror stories about you." Quinn winced, remembering Rachel's alleged total honesty policy with her parents. "I'm also going to keep it brief, though, because I really hate having to do this." It was odd, hearing actual regret in his voice. Quinn had quite a bit of experience with faking emotions and she could tell that Hiram wasn't lying. She heard that same desire to be kind that Quinn had heard in his daughter's voice earlier.

She heard a weakness.

"W-well, Mr. Berry," She forced her quavering shivery voice into composure, "I'm sure both of us are glad about that. Neither of us want to drag this out." Remorseful wasn't a persona she was familiar with, but she could improvise. For the first time; Quinn was actually grateful for those twinges of genuine guilt she'd been feeling towards Berry. They were finally proving useful. "If you don't mind, I'd like to say something first though."

"Hmm?" Mr. Berry rumbled, waiting for her to go on

Quinn swallowed with difficulty, allowing the faintest tinge of her inner tremors to creep back into her voice. "I'd like to think that I already know a lot of what you're going to tell me." That certainly wasn't a lie. The honest, expressive, Berry face was apparently a family thing. Quinn could practically see the impending lecture written across Hiram's furrowed brow. "Please believe me; it's nothing I haven't said to myself." That also wasn't a lie. Quinn didn't want to do any of this anymore, she was being forced into it.

"I know that I've been awful, horrifying, to your daughter." True," I've called her cruel names, had her slushied, and made her a target for the entire school." All true, "And I- I know that..." Quinn paused for a moment, mid sentence. A small drop of moisture was trailing its way across her cheek, but this one wasn't from the rain. It was a tear, a genuine one.

She hadn't planned this. She couldn't have planned this. One of the things Quinn had never been good at was crying on cue. She had had to sock herself in the stomach to muster up the tears for her other brief visit to the Berry house. Why on earth was she crying? Couldn't she even think about Stubbles without her act falling to pieces?

Mr. Berry was staring though, and she needed to say something. Quinn wiped away the errant tear and held up a hand to forestall an early reply, "I'm sorry," she said, "I just know as well as you do that I don't deserve the second chance she's giving me." The tall man nodded, but Quinn could see his features softening. He believed in her regret, even if only a little.

"I want to make things right," she said simply, leaning forward in her chair. "Mr. Berry, I want to start helping some of the people I've hurt and there's no one I've hurt more than Rachel. I don't know if you heard us upstairs, but I just offered her a chance to join the Cheerios... She'll be safe now..." For a little bit anyways, just until Glee sectionals. Quinn felt another pang of guilt wrench her stomach. Rachel would be popular, happy, and safe; safe until Sue and Quinn were done leading her along, safe until she was plunged back to the bottom with several gallons of slushies, safe just long enough to wonder if her new life wasn't a dream.

Another damned tear slipped loose, but Quinn caught it before it could escape. None of this was her fault! She didn't have to get emotionally involved! Why was it that Rachel Berry was the one person she couldn't just put a happy face on for? Why couldn't it be anyone else?

Quinn pulled on her brain's reins. Mr. Berry still didn't look convinced. "I know that she probably told you that I yelled at her yesterday, called her names and bullied her again; and if she didn't I'm telling you now." She swallowed nervously as Hiram's eyes narrowed, "I'm sorry. That's not the me I want to be." Quinn paused, intentionally this time, once more, "I want to be the me that was getting better, the one I was getting to know during my pregnancy, the one that was almost Rachel's friend..."

There was the actual lie Quinn had been couching with truths and half-truths. She really didn't want to torture Rachel anymore but that was only because she didn't want anything to do with the other girl at all. Quinn wanted a world where things were clear and made sense, not one where her thoughts went fuzzy and her feelings were perpetually confused. Given the choice, Quinn would have chosen to never see Rachel again.

But that wasn't an option.

"Do you think you could let me do that?Let me try?" She asked, a pleading note in her voice.

Rachel's father leaned forward as well and Quinn realized that his eyes were the same shade of warm brown as his daughter's. Maybe Berry wasn't completely crazy for wondering which one was her genetic father. "Miss Fabray, Quinn," There it was, Quinn knew she had him. It wasn't just the name, Hiram's stern reproving glare had melted away the moment Quinn said she wanted Rachel safe.  
>"I want to believe you. You seem sincere, and you did help my daughter with Mr. Hudson over the summer." Quinn kept the wince from her face this time, people needed to stop complimenting her for that.<p>

"I am still, however, going to warn you," the stern look worked its way back on the man's face but Quinn could tell his heart wasn't in it. "If Rachel, my husband, or I ever decide that your behaviour has become inappropriate you won't be welcome here any longer." Quinn could hear light, almost bouncy, footsteps approaching from behind her, "And I will be much less forgiving should that happen. Are we clear?"

"Papa," Quinn could hear a desperate exasperation in Rachel's voice, "I told you to be nice." The smaller girl must have been standing right behind Quinn, she could even smell her. It was odd, smell was something she'd never thought to notice about Rachel before, but with the diva practically leaning forwards against the back of her head Quinn couldn't help it. It wasn't a bad smell, though Quinn probably would have made fun of her for it anyway if the circumstances were different, it was just ironic. Rachel Berry smelled like a mix of every wildberry that Quinn could think of.

"Rachel, sweetie, I was being nice. I was just making sure Quinn knew..."

"Then why was she crying?" Rachel asked pointedly. She must have been just above Quinn's head, the blonde could feel strands of hair tickling her face. What on earth did the other girl wash her hair with? It smelled... intoxicating. The Cheerio found herself taking longer, deeper, breaths as she tried to figure out. She looked up, her slightly puffy eyes meeting Rachel's concerned ones, and her sentence came out in a garbled mess.

"That... wasn't, I wasn't... Crying..." Quinn mumbled lamely. It was that smell, that smell and those eyes; nobody looked at Quinn like that anymore. Nobody was actually concerned for her. Nobody actually cared. Rachel had to be in this for something selfish. There was no way that the worry in her eyes could have ever been for Quinn. Yes, Rachel just wanted to secure her place on the Cheerios; that had to be it.

Didn't it?

Quinn wanted to just pull away, the way she had in the classroom yesterday when she had realized she was getting too close, but she couldn't. She couldn't even sink deeper into the armchair to escape. All she could do was hope that Rachel would back off, would stop looking at her like that, wouldn't move any closer.

Why was she moving closer?

"Quinn," Rachel smiled weakly, "You don't have to lie to me."

Well, that certainly wasn't true; and Quinn clung to the false statement, dragging herself from the chair. She used it to get away from Berry and her bottomless eyes and her bizarrely relaxing aroma. She frantically gathered the shattered fragments of the composure she had possessed just moments before, stammering out a lie of her own.

"I-I-I really wasn't crying Rachel." The brunette's smile had disappeared when Quinn fled, "I think I'm just catching a bit of a cold." The blonde's eyes flicked briefly to Hiram, who didn't respond. Apparently he was fine with lying to Rachel if it was for her own good.

"Alright Quinn." Rachel said, returning to a normal standing position. Quinn had to keep her eyes from narrowing in suspicion. How far forward had the dwarf been leaning? It had to have been far enough for her to see Quinn's eyes from behind. Was she doing... whatever it was she did to Quinn on purpose?

"I just think you should know that all I want from you is honesty."

Damn.

The tinge of sadness, both in Rachel's voice and facial features, was so genuine that Quinn's paranoias just melted away. Either this family had no idea how to lie or they were the most magnificent actors ever.

"Your father and I were just having a talk," Quinn said, strength returning to her voice. It felt odd, trying to reassure the smaller girl instead of tear her down. It felt even odder when Quinn realized she actually wanted a smile back on Rachel's face. "He wanted to make sure you were safe. You're very lucky." Quinn almost whispered the last sentence, realizing that she was actually jealous of Berry. Somehow Rachel's sinful gay fathers, the same people Quinn had been trained to think of as abominations, were clearly much better people than her own parents.

"Dinner is ready, Baby Berry," Quinn bit back a sudden snort of laughter, changing it into a coughing fit, as a round, balding, bespectacled, head poked in from the kitchen. "Are you going to get the others for me or not?" Why on earth was Rachel's daddy singing his sentences?

"Sorry daddy." Rachel chirped back without a trace of embarassment, "Come with me, please, Quinn." The small girl hesitantly proffered her hand, tremors running through her arm. Quinn couldn't blame the other girl for her obvious fear, but it still made her frown. Had she really hurt Rachel that badly? If so, how was there any way the diva could be so sincere about wanting to be friends? Quinn didn't really want to be friends with Rachel and the smaller girl had never even bullied her.

Rachel must have misinterpreted Quinn's frown, though, because she was pulling her arm back. Quinn all but lunged for the other girl's hand, barely catching it before it fell to Rachel's side, but it was worth it. Rachel's face lit up with a gentle smile Quinn had never seen on the singer before. It was dazzling, and Quinn found her dim wonderings about why making Rachel happy was suddenly a goal for her just fade away. "Lead the way," she said, a smile of her own creeping on to her face.

Quinn found herself fascinated by Rachel's hand as the diva chattered about dinner. Apparently the Berrys had made good on their offer to run and prepare some non-vegan food for Quinn, but that wasn't important. What was important; at least, what was important to Quinn at that moment, was the smooth warmth of Rachel's hand under her fingers. For some reason Rachel hadn't yet released the hold, not even to pray, and Quinn found herself tracing patterns across the back of the brunette's knuckles with her thumb.

It was while softly toying with Rachel's fingers that Quinn realized that her mask had fallen once again. All it had taken was a frown, a hand, and a smile to shatter her constructed image of herself. She stopped moving, considering dropping the other hand, but a brief glance from Rachel drew her attention to the Berrys' faces. Rachel herself was still smiling that smile at Quinn, apparently content to stay quiet for once; Hiram and Leroy were discussing whether or not it would be acceptable to eat some of the fish, since it was barely meat; and Quinn was very aware of the gentle smile on her own lips. Yes, her mask had dropped; but nobody, not even herself, cared.

So, for the first time in months, she didn't bother picking it back up. Quinn just held Rachel's hand, not worrying about whether or not it meant anything, and ate. Rachel and her fathers had prepared far too much food for four people and Quinn wondered how much of it was going to go to waste. Rather than settle on any one course she decided to go for a bit of everything, even trying some of the tofu and soy products laid in front of her.

It didn't last too long though, the openness. It was actually kind of uncomfortable to keep up. Quinn couldn't respond properly to questions, as though her actual personality were a stranger, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was almost naked. That was terrifying; feeling so exposed to these people who should have hated her. She knew she would have hated her. So, with a final soft squeeze that even Quinn didn't fully understand, she let Rachel's hand fall and slipped back into the role Sue had assigned her.

"Quinn, are you all right?" Rachel's nervous smile and immediate concern caused the new mask to shake, but it held.

"Of course Rachel," Quinn chuckled, putting a trace of the old harshness into the laugh. Berry needed to back off if Quinn was going to keep herself together. "it was just difficult, eating only with my left hand." Yes, the excuse was terrible; but Quinn didn't need to explain herself to the hobbit anyway. In two months neither of them would have any interest in each other anyway. Duty would see to that.

She hadn't realized that she had stopped eating until Rachel's daddy, the one named Leroy, shot up in his chair to address her. "Quinn if you're done eating I'd love to take my turn talking to you. I understand that my husband already got his chance, correct?" Quinn nodded, anything to get some time away from the smurf's corrupting aura. Man hands herself was being uncharacteristically quiet, maybe her 'daddy' had stolen her ability to speak. Quinn was making a concious effort not to look over at the brunette; trying not to feel moved by the way she was blushing, face buried in her hands.

So she rose, maybe slightly more quickly than appropriate, and whisked out of the room after Leroy. They didn't stop in the dark sitting room where Hiram had confronted her though. Instead Quinn was ushered into the music room Berry had led her past earlier, taking a seat on one of several stools scattered about the floor. Even behind her mental walls she couldn't help but admire the decor though. The room had a strong floral theme and Quinn had always loved gardenias like the ones placed in the nooks. She breathed deeply, clearing her head completely of berry-scented madness.

"So, Quinn," Leroy began, not bothering to take a seat. "Hiram told me he's already talked to you, and that's fantastic. He's always been much better at laying down the law than I have." Quinn could understand why. The short, almost portly, Jewish man in front of her was nowhere near as terrifying as Rachel's other father. In fact, it took actual effort on Quinn's part not to start laughing at him. Leroy spoke with an odd lilt in his voice, almost as though he were preparing to break into song.

"So, since that's out of the way, I've invited you into my sanctum of musicality," He gestured broadly about the well-lit room, "To encourage you." Quinn's eyebrow arched in surprise but the man didn't respond at all. He must have rehearsed this speech. She doubted she could have derailed it with anything short of a grenade.

"Now; my little darling Rachel assures me that you are nowhere near as musically inclined as we are, so I'm going to forego the song I had planned." Quinn grudgingly, and was glad that it was grudgingly again, chalked up a small thank-you to the smurf. "The general gist of it, though, was thank you."

"What?" Quinn couldn't help herself. He was thanking her, why was he thanking her!? She would have said more, however; Leroy's consternated glare was all Quinn needed to know that she wouldn't be interrupting his monologue again.

"As I was saying," he huffed, "Thank you, Quinn, for putting a smile back on my daughter's face." She actually managed to restrain her guilt and surprise this time, merely nodding. "I don't know what you said to her up there, though I'm sure I'll hear about it later," Wait, how long had he had to plan out this lecture? "but she's been giving you her real smile all night." Real smile? Quinn opened her mouth to comment but was shut down by a stern gesture from Leroy

"Yes, yes, I know she's always got her stage smile on, the one that could light up Times Square, but that's not what I meant." Leroy shook his head, "I'm talking about that shy, vulnerable, terrified smile that she's been wearing since she came down her stairs." His eyes narrowed and Quinn felt like she was being pierced by his gaze, even through the glasses.

"She hasn't had that smile grace her face since she started attending that damned school." Quinn almost flinched away from the intense stare when Leroy swore, "None of her Glee club 'friends' could put it there. Her all but unfaithful boyfriend couldn't put it there. I," his voice slipped to a dramatic whisper, "could not put an actual smile on my baby's lips."

"Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" He paused, glancing at Quinn. She shook her head quickly and it was apparently what Leroy was looking for because he continued. "It nearly killed me inside, knowing that every day my darling little girl was going to her own personal hell. She'd come home reeking of garbage or with stained clothing and I couldn't do anything." Quinn sympathized, she couldn't have done anything either. The established hierarchy had placed Rachel at the bottom of the social ladder from the first moments of High School.

"All of that was one person's fault, your fault, and now somehow you're the person making her smile." Leroy shook his head, apparently at a loss for words, but Quinn would have bet money this was as rehearsed as everything else. It didn't make the force behind his speech any less bizarre though.

"I don't know why, or even if, you deserve to see that smile. I don't know what you could have possibly done to earn it, but I do know what it means." How had he suddenly gotten so much scarier? "That smile, the one I haven't seen in several years, means that she desperately wants to trust you, Quinn Fabray. It means that, right now, there is nothing in the world she wants more than to have one genuine friend. One friend that can protect her and care about her" Leroy had moved closer to Quinn, all but staring her down. "And she wants that friend to be you."

"You had better deserve it." He turned, stomping out of the room and leaving Quinn entirely baffled. Had she accidentally made a wrong turn and wandered into an asylum? Tall black men that melted at a few nice words, small balding men who turned to ice without warning, and a particular diva who left Quinn wondering if the crazy might not be infectious; she needed to get out of here. Quinn rose quickly from the stool, heading for the door. She needed to get out of here, she didn't care about the storm, she just needed to get out and away from...

Rachel...

Quinn's purposeful stride had carried her directly into the other girl. She and Rachel had both fallen to the floor, sprawling together in an uncomfortable tangle of bodies. Rachel managed to recover first, though; she was blushing furiously and stammering as she spoke.

"Qu-Qu-Quinn! I'm sorry, so so sorry. I just saw daddy storming out of the room and I wanted to make sure you were okay and I just have to mess up everything and..." the short brunette thought for half a second, "See, I haven't even tried to help you up. I'm a terrible friend, here."

Quinn had to bite back her first response, that they were hardly friends, as Rachel proffered her hand once again. She staggered to her feet on her own, unwilling to brave any more contact with the other girl. She needed to keep control of herself, no matter how much her feelings rebelled when that soft little smile disappeared.

"Rachel," Quinn said, fighting to keep her voice steady, "I need to go home. Now, please." She wasn't sure how well she had done, but neither the bully nor the simpering version of herself from earlier had taken over. She teetered back and forth, trying to simultaneously ignore Rachel and hold eye contact with her.

"I... Quinn... Okay..." Berry sounded defeated, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to wait a bit longer though?" Quinn forced her eyebrow into an inquisitive arch. "Two reasons. First, I'd really like to try and make up for whatever's upset you. After all, you came here to be kind to me and I'd just feel terrible if you left with bad feelings." Did she have to pretend to care so much? They weren't even friends! Quinn couldn't see a single possible way for her to leave without bad feelings!

"The other reason is, well, your clothes aren't finished drying yet. They've got about 30 minutes left." Quinn stopped herself from hyperventilating as Berry explained how Quinn's clothes had undergone the most thorough cleaning in the history of the earth. She could stand thirty more minutes. She just wouldn't look at Rachel, or listen to her, or breathe, for half an hour.

Maybe she wouldn't be able to handle thirty more minutes...

There wasn't much of a choice though. Quinn appreciated the warmth but there was no way she was stepping outside in one of Treasure Trail's sweaters. "Alright, Rachel," she exhaled exasperatedly, "I can wait that long."

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel smiled again. She smiled that sweet gentle smile Leroy had pointed out, Quinn's smile. Quinn almost smacked herself. She didn't deserve that smile, it was by no means 'her' smile. "I really hope I can persuade you to stay a little longer. We were planning to take part in a nightly Berry tradition, if you wouldn't mind joining us, it's actually rather fun." Rachel slowed down for a moment, apparently aware of her rambling.

"Well, it's just karaoke but..." Her voice turned embarassed for the first time in the night, "I-I-I really like it." Quinn had to wonder why Rachel Berry was suddenly embarassed by singing. It didn't make sense, the other girl suddenly seeking Quinn's approval. The only thing Quinn had admired in the shorter girl before was her fierce pride in her own talents. How confused must Rachel have been to...

Wait...

Did she affect Rachel the same bizarre way Rachel affected her?

Quinn could feel a predatory smile settling on her face. She tweaked it slightly, made it sweet, but could still feel it in the back of her mind. This would make things so much easier. If she could just stay focused on manipulating Man hands maybe she'd be able to distance herself. Quinn could still feel that part of herself, the part that made her brain fuzz when the Dwarf talked to her, but for the first time that since Hiram had spoken to her it was muffled.

"Of course, Rachel," Quinn said soothingly, "we all know how much you love to sing. It's something you're very good at." She sidled closer to the diva, making sure they didn't quite touch. Even with her newfound confidence Quinn didn't want to risk spending another hour fondling Berry's man-hands.

"Besides, this will help me get to know you." Quinn wished Rachel would stop smiling at her. Spending the entire night without looking at the shorter girl's face would definitely be awkward. "That'll be good, since Coach Sylvester's making me your mentor." It suddenly dawned on Quinn how much time she'd be spending with Berry. She had to quash down a sudden surge of anxiety, telling herself that things would be different at school than they were in this madhouse. Surely if they didn't meet here anymore she'd be able to remember all those reasons she had for hating the dwarf.

"Alright then," Rachel laughed nervously, "thank you for this chance, Quinn. N-not just for the Cheerios but for letting me try to be your friend." Quinn watched as the smaller girl tugged her lower lip between her teeth. She didn't know what Rachel was considering, but she was sure she wasn't going to like it.

"I've never really had one of those before." Quinn tried to backpedal and move away from the brunette; tried to remember that she was supposed to be manipulating Berry; tried to ignore the sincere happiness evident in Rachel's smile; but she couldn't. It just wasn't possible. The Berrys must have brainwashed her somehow, either that or the rain had addled her mind. Quinn could only just recognize that the smile on Rachel's face was moving, forming words.

"I'm going to hug you now." Quinn dimly understood why Rachel had said that. She had reacted poorly to the hug in the upstairs room after all. That seemed like a very long time ago, though; as the shorter girl's arms slipped around her. Yes, it had been far too long since she had had Rachel's arms about her, holding her together. Quinn had forgotten the strange peace and, oddly, clarity she had felt.

It only felt better when she actually returned the hug. Slowly, awkwardly, and with part of Quinn's mind fighting her the entire way, her own pale arms encircled Rachel. She wasn't used to hugging someone shorter than herself, Puck had been slightly taller and Finn was simply gigantic, so it took her a while to position her hands comfortably. Rachel didn't seem to mind. The diva had her head resting on Quinn's shoulder, eyes closed, and she certainly wasn't showing signs of letting go.

The blonde was slowly becoming aware of Rachel's smell again, the gentle wildberry fragrance just seeping into her brain, and she hesitated. The primary, almost overpowering, desire in her mind was to let her face drop to Rachel's hair and just inhale. She wasn't sure if the brunette had somehow bottled rainbows or angels but the scent was fantastic. However, even with the other girl pressed against her body, Quinn was aware that that was weird. For the first time that night she thought of her father and what he would say. She could practically hear his voice.

"Quinn Charlotte Fabray, I raised you better than this. I don't care what your insane coach told you to do, I will not have you consorting with the Berrys and their hellspawn!"

That was what pushed her over the edge. Quinn decided that if she really were going to Hell she was going to do it thoroughly. She allowed her face to slowly dip towards Rachel's head until her nose was actually brushing the other girl's hair. She breathed in deeply, flooding her senses, and pulled her arms slightly tighter. She'd given up entirely, at least for the day. If she were going to worry about this it would have to be tomorrow, when she got home.

"Alright, Berry," Quinn mumbled without any of her usual malice. Her lips were practically brushing against the other girl's skin. "why don't you show me this karaoke thing you were talking about." She didn't even care about her clothes anymore. If Berry wanted her to stay over then she'd stay over. Her parents weren't going to get home for days anyway and this would probably help with Sue's plan.

Quinn thought she probably would have felt guiltier about that if she weren't currently wrapped around the brunette. Everything that wasn't Rachel just seemed muzzy and unimportant though. She didn't care about her mask, didn't care about Rachel's daddy calling for them from the basement, didn't care about the fact that the hug had been going on for several minutes now. The only thing she cared about was Rachel pulling away from her.

"I... Um," Rachel's cheeks were flushed, "You'll have to let go first, Quinn" Quinn blinked blearily, head clearing a little bit as the diva pulled away against her arms. Sheepishly, and without a word, she allowed the smaller girl to escape. The blonde hugged her arms tightly against her own chest, trying to rub away the lingering feeling. Her skin was tingling, begging for more, but Rachel had already walked a few steps away.

Quinn fought to quash the craving as she followed in Rachel's wake. It wasn't right for her to be feeling abandoned by the other girl, especially not when she was right there. All Berry had done was stop hugging her. She didn't even really like Rachel, after all. It just wasn't worth the effort it took to fight whatever spell they had cast on her, not until she got back home.

A deep voice rang around the corner and Quinn could tell the Berry men had started without them. Rachel looked positively indignant as she stormed into the large room. Quinn only paid mild attention to the diva's rant, mostly because she kept pointing at her, as she inspected the area. It looked like some sort of theatre, meticulously clean and precisely decorated. The lonely microphone stand up on the wooden stage was contrasted by the truly enormous sound system built into the walls. Quinn didn't know much about speakers but she could tell that her family couldn't have afforded this. How much money did the Berrys' have?

"So, Quinn," Rachel was suddenly next to her again, "We've decided that since you want to depart as quickly as possible you ought to take the first opportunity to participate." Apparently she had regained her ability to monologue. Her voice was odd, though. It seemed like the brunette was taking much deeper breaths than normal. In fact, Rachel's entire body seemed strangely off. Her face was still flushed and her eyes seemed darker, more intense, than usual. It also seemed like she was avoiding contact with Quinn herself.

"That will, of course, be right now since Papa decided to actually wait his turn." Quinn hadn't realized their gazes had been locked until Rachel turned to glare at her father. "You can have as long as you want to select a song though. Hopefully something from our extensive collection will be to your liking." The diva didn't give Quinn a chance to argue. She just went and sat inbetween her parents but the blonde caught her stealing shy glances at her.

Quinn shrugged. If Rachel wanted to get rid of her that was fine too. She couldn't think of any other reason for the brunette's odd behavior. She idly strolled over to a futuristic interface and, after a moment of confusion, scrolled through the electronic library on the touchpad. Hiram had left it in the middle of what looked like a Broadway section. Quinn had gained some familiarity with showtunes last year and she didn't want to get lost in the odd system so she scrolled towards the bottom and made her choice

She almost had to sprint to the stage to make it in time for the opening. The song she had chosen was cheesy, yes, but Quinn figured Rachel would appreciate that. Besides, it was almost perfect for the situation.

"Rachel - now that we're friends, I've decided to make you my new project." Quinn spoke over the prelude

"You really don't have to do that," and of course Rachel couldn't resist picking up the line. Quinn thought she could see the shorter girl's blush deepening. Her smile was definitely spreading.

"I know. That's what makes me so nice!"

(sung) "Whenever I see someone  
>Less fortunate than I<br>(And let's face it - who isn't  
>Less fortunate than I?)<br>My tender heart  
>Tends to start to bleed<br>And when someone needs a makeover  
>I simply have to take over<br>I know I know exactly what they need  
>And even in your case<br>Tho' it's the toughest case I've yet to face  
>Don't worry - I'm determined to succeed<br>Follow my lead  
>And yes, indeed<br>You will be:"

Quinn smiled. She wasn't much of a musical performer and she certainly didn't have Chenowith's voice but that didn't matter. Her smile, Quinn felt the angry part of her mind spasm at the term, was on Rachel's face again and it was because she was singing.

"Popular!" the song continued.

"You're gonna be popular!  
>I'll teach you the proper poise<br>When you talk to boys  
>Little ways to flirt and flounce (Ooh!)"<p>

Quinn bounced down and took Rachel by the hand, pulling her back up on the stage with her. She was surprised by the heat coming off the brunette's skin but didn't have time to comment as the song continued.

"I'll show you what shoes to wear  
>How to fix your hair<br>Everything that really counts  
>To be popular<br>I'll help you be popular!  
>You'll hang with the right cohorts<br>You'll be good at sports  
>Know the slang you've got to know<br>So let's start  
>'Cause you've got an awfully long way to go:"<p>

The blonde almost worried for a moment that she might have offended someone. A quick look at the beaming faces around her reassured her though.

"Don't be offended by my frank analysis  
>Think of it as personality dialysis<br>Now that I've chosen to be come a pal, a sister and adviser  
>There's nobody wiser<br>Not when it comes to popular -  
>I know about popular<br>And with an assist from me  
>To be who you'll be<br>Instead of dreary who-you-were: well are  
>There's nothing that can stop you<br>From becoming popu-Ler: lar:"

"La la la la  
>We're gonna make<br>You popular"

"When I see depressing creatures  
>With unprepossessing features<br>I remind them on their own behalf  
>To think of<br>Celebrated heads of state or  
>Specially great communicators<br>Did they have brains or knowledge?  
>Don't make me laugh!"<p>

Quinn did chuckle though. She'd never really thought through how similar Rachel was to Elphaba; or how similar she was to Glinda, for that matter. It was a pretty good musical, Quinn had just never thought about it before.

"They were popular! Please -  
>It's all about popular!<br>It's not about aptitude  
>It's the way you're viewed<br>So it's very shrewd to be  
>Very very popular<br>Like me! (Ahh!)"

(spoken) "Why, Miss Berry, look at you. You're beautiful." Quinn had toyed with Rachel's hair somewhat but there was only so much you could do on a barren stage. Still, she could see why Finn kept straying. Rachel looked soft, vulnerable, like something that needed to be protected.

"I - I have to go:" Rachel took the opportunity to flee the stage as Quinn smirked after her."

"You're welcome!"

(sung) "And though you protest  
>Your disinterest<br>I know clandestinely  
>You're gonna grin and bear it<br>Your new found popularity  
>La la la la<br>You'll be popular -  
>Just not quite as popular<br>As me!"

Quinn looked nervously at the three other people in the room, not sure how much she wanted their approval. The Berry men looked grudgingly impressed, and all of them were clapping, but Rachel seemed uncomfortable. The diva was shifting restlessly in her seat, chewing her lower lip gently and rubbing her legs. The blonde's pride in her own performance sank, deflated, as she dropped off the stage. She had thought Rachel was enjoying that.

It was fine though. Rachel was going to be plenty uncomfortable after Sectionals. The thought stung Quinn's defenseless psyche. She didn't need to make Berry suffer any more, not that night. So, if her being there made Rachel uncomfortable, she'd leave. She needed to make some serious mental repairs anyway.

"Rachel," she said blandly, "I really do need to get home now. My," Quinn cringed at the lie, even if it was for Rachel's own good, "my parents won't approve of me being over here." Quinn's parents wouldn't know, but she had to get out. "Just come to Cheerios practice on Thursday, alright?"

Rachel, to Quinn's surprise, just nodded fervently and took her quickly to the laundry room for her clothes. There wasn't a prolonged goodbye. Quinn was grateful for that. It meant she didn't have to deal with the after-effects of another hug. Rachel just loaned her an umbrella and ushered her out the door.

Quinn was exhausted by the time she got home though. It was 11:47 and she simply collapsed into bed, mentally drained. She'd figure out exactly what had gone wrong in the morning. Just as she was drifting off a low buzz from her phone roused her.

"Dammit," she grumbled, "what is it?" Quinn flipped open the phone.

"1 new text from Rachel 3" the alert read. Quinn pressed the 'more' button without thinking.

"Good night Quinn, and thank you. O"

Quinn frowned at the last symbol, "O?" she texted back.

The response was almost scarily fast. "My apologies, I was under the assumption that 'O' was texting shorthand for a hug. Is that wrong?"

"No, you're right. Night, Berry, I guess." Quinn thought for about five minutes before sending a final message.

"O"


	5. Chapter 4: Slush

A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated. They'll help me keep going.

A/N: So, I actually had this ready at the same time as the last one but I didn't want to dump two huge chapters on you guys at once. The next chapter will take quite some time. I also want to announce three minor changes I'm going to be making. First: I'm going to start using Author's Note space to let you all know what I'm thinking. Second: I'm going to start doing little interludes from the viewpoints of other characters. Quinn is amazing but sometimes other people have things to say too. They shouldn't be too frequent though, don't worry. Third, and largest: Thatmakesyoumyequivalent, as you may have noticed, will no longer be doing this fic with me. I will, however, continue to credit her because she helped me so much with the original idea.

Suggestions, comments, reviews, and anything else you may want to say to me are all welcome at Quinchberry .

Chapter 4

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

A/N: We still don't own Glee

"Quinn, uh, I think we need to talk." The blonde glanced up at her boyfriend as he took the seat next to her at the lunch table. She hoped this was some sort of good news. Her own day had been rough or, at least, odd. Actually, both days since her visit to the Berry home had been odd.

Her mask, the old Head Bitch In Charge persona, didn't seem to fit right anymore. It was like there wasn't quite room now. It was just a little too confining. A gentle buzz against her chest reminded her of the reason. It was hard to feel intimidating and confident when you were texting one of the biggest losers in school every other minute. Quinn reached into her bra-pocket and flipped out her phone, confirming her suspicions. It was Rachel again.

Berry just wouldn't give up. Quinn had tried ignoring her messages, after those first few, but that didn't work. After a few minutes of not-responding the blonde had received texts so quickly that she was surprised Rachel hadn't burned her fingers out. She supposed she should have just been grateful that the smurf's messages didn't melt her brain the way her voice did. At least this way she was able to keep up some level of dignity.

Quinn realized Finn still hadn't said anything, was he waiting for permission? She muffled a sigh and closed the alert on her phone. Rachel could wait 10 minutes.

"What is it Finn?" She thought she kept the exasperation out of her voice nicely, considering her distraction. She didn't think it would really matter either way. Finn wasn't exactly astute.

"Well, uh, you know how Coach Tanaka kinda went off the deep end over the summer? And we got a new coach?" Quinn knew exactly what Finn was talking about. Sue had dragged her and Santana into her office yet again the previous day. Apparently Figgins had cut the Cheerio's budget to bring on a new coach for the football team. Sue had been mostly incoherent, yelling something about a 'beast,' but Quinn had noticed a huge woman hulking about the school the previous few days. That had to be her. Luckily, since Quinn was already occupied, Santana had been assigned to whatever crazy scheme Sue had in mind

"Yes, I've seen her. There isn't a problem, right?" Quinn arched an eyebrow at her boyfriend. It was a warning sign even he could recognize and he all but cowered away from her. Quinn prevented herself from yelling. He was stupid, there was still a chance everything was fine.

"No, no, nothings wrong I promise, really." Finn rushed through his sentence, chuckling nervously. His tone didn't do anything to reassure Quinn, though, who just arched her eyebrow higher. "She's just doing things a little bit differently and, um..." He listed off into mumbling so vague Quinn could barely make out the end of his sentence, "everybody got cut from the team..." Finn was desperately looking anywhere but Quinn's face.

"You did what!" Quinn shrieked, standing upright. She could hear a huge portion of the cafeteria swivel to look at her. That was a good thing though. She had needed to vent before, now she had a reason. Maybe a little yelling with the added sting of humiliation would persuade him to get his titanic rear in gear. She held herself back for just a moment longer though. He had one chance to dig himself out of this.

"Quinn, please. I promise it isn't how it sounds." She inhaled and exhaled heavily, searching her own brain. He was stupid, he was trying to be sweet, and she was being unfair. Quinn tried to calm down, despite the watching crowd. She was just frustrated with Sue and her father and, most of all, with the situation with Berry. It really wasn't his fault and, to be honest, as long as there was any chance he could be quarterback she needed him. She needed to be on good terms with him or things would fall apart even worse. After all, if he lost the position she could always seduce the new guy.

"Alright," she said, shooing away the crowd that was starting to gather. She took a quick moment to enjoy how quickly they scattered. It was good to have that power again.

"I'm going to let you explain. You deserve that much from me." He really did. Babygate had really hurt him and, even if Quinn didn't feel anything towards him, she regretted that. She also wished someone besides Rachel had given her a chance to explain herself afterwards. She wasn't going to just let the dwarf steal him again by being the only sympathetic figure in his life.

Finn looked surprised, and that hurt a bit. She silently cursed Rachel or Glee or her pregnancy or whatever for giving her actual feelings. "Thank you, babe, I'll try and make things right. Promise." She drummed her fingers quietly against the table. Sweet as the sentiment was, she just wanted him to explain.

"So, well, the coach cut everyone on the team right?" He still looked a bit worried but at least he was back on track. "But we're all trying out again and, you know, we aren't very good so I'll probably be quarterback again." Finn chuckled nervously at himself, pausing before he continued.

"I-I just wanted to make sure that we'd... still be together if I wasn't, well, popular anymore." Quinn only hesitated for the tiniest fraction of a second before lying smoothly.

"Finn, I really care about you." For some reason she couldn't bring herself to say she loved him. She sat back down next to the tall boy, pressing gently against his side with her own. "I know we're going to be Prom Royalty this year, I know the Cheerios are going to win again, and I know you are going to get your position back." She didn't think he'd recognize that she hadn't really answered his question.

"Thanks, Quinn," the tall boy smiled, wrapping an arm around her, "I'm gonna do my best for us." His gaze focused on the phone Quinn had left lying on the table.

"I, uh, think someone's trying to get your attention." The phone was had been vibrating persistently throughout the brief conversation. Quinn flipped it open once again, already aware of who had been trying to reach her.

-8 New Messages and 1 Missed Call From, 'Rachel 3.'-

With an audible groan of frustration and with clenched teeth Quinn opened the messages. The first three were just meaningless chatter but the last five were different.

-Quinn, could I talk to you please?-

-In person, that is, I know we've been having these pleasant little text chats but this is important.-

-Quinn? Are you there?-

-It isn't even class time...-

-Quinn, I really need to talk to you. I'm outside the choir room, waiting.-

"So... Who is it?" Finn's voice inquired just behind her. Quinn managed to suppress a second groan. That wasn't a topic she was ready to cover with him.

"Nobody, it's just something I have to take care of." Quinn replied, typing her response text at the same time.

-I'm coming, I'm coming. I hope this is actually important, R.-

She had started calling Rachel that, R, the last two days. If the smaller girl was going to be a Cheerio, no matter how briefly, she was going to have to get used to it. All the cheerleaders referred to one another by their initials. It was something Sue had started, allegedly to improve team unity. Quinn suspected the coach just couldn't be bothered to remember their full names.

"Finn, you stay here and finish your lunch." She looked down at the tray of cafeteria slop disdainfully. She had always prepared her own meals for school. The time spent was well worth it when the alternative was choking down a tray of mystery meat. "You need to keep your muscle up if you want back on the team, after all. I just have to go deal with something for Miss Sylvester"

"Thanks, Quinn. Good luck," he was talking, smiling too, with his mouth full. The blonde gingerly removed her boyfriend's arm from her shoulders, standing and walking away. She thought he might have called something else out, maybe an 'I love you' or something similar, but she didn't care. She waved whatever it was away dismissively, continuing out of the cafeteria and into the hall. She had to focus now. She couldn't devolve into a uncoordinated mess in front of the entire school.

She guessed she was lucky. The corridor was mostly empty when she arrived. The only other people there were random passers-by, a few football goons lurking by the window, and Rachel. Quinn could recognize the smaller girl instantly, nobody else dressed that way, and she casually strutted over. There was nothing to be embarassed of, not right now at least. Rachel was going to be a Cheerio, even if only for a month or two, and no one in the whole school would dare mess with them. Rachel even had her uniform folded together in her arms.

"Quinn, I'm so glad you're here." Rachel smiled gently, looking downwards, and Quinn had to remind herself that that smile wasn't hers. She didn't deserve that dazzling arc of white on the other girls face. Then she had to remind herself that she shouldn't be caring anyway. Quinn stopped caring what she should have been doing, though, when the smile faded.

"I... I... There's something I need to say to you, Quinn. It's about the," Rachel dropped to a whispered hush, "the Cheerios."

"What's wrong, R? Scared of Sylvester?" Quinn was glad she still had the acuity to call Berry by her initial. It was depersonalizing and that helped her think about things other than smiles and smells and gentle touches. "Don't worry, she really is more bark than bite. You'll learn fast."

"Not Sylvester, no." Rachel lost the ridiculous whisper. "I'm really a lot more scared of the past, if I'm being completely honest. I," the brunette looked ridiculously frustrated, even stamping her foot against the ground, "can't, I just can't, do this, Quinn."

Quinn very nearly panicked, barely keeping herself together with the knowledge that yelling at Rachel would probably only make the problem worse. "What do you mean, R? Cheer's just like dancing, you love performing. Don't you?"

"I'm sorry," Rachel shook her head, "That's still not what I meant. I guess I'm sort of avoiding the issue so as to not sound rude. I really really do want to remain your friend, Quinn. I'm just not sure I can trust the Cheerios." The diva didn't have to mention the implied rudeness, that she wasn't sure she could trust Quinn either.

"I think there's just a little bit too much bad blood for me to be comfortable. You know our unfortunate past. The names, the inappropriate drawings, the slushies? I know it sounds paranoid but what if this were all some cruel joke as well?" Quinn's eyes widened. She couldn't know. There was no way Rachel could possibly know, right? "I don't think I could take that."

Rachel kept talking but, for once, it was background noise to Quinn's own thoughts. Sylvester was going to absolutely murder her for botching the job. Then, if by some miracle she managed to survive the coach, her father was going to murder her for getting kicked off the team. She idly noticed the shapes of the football thugs coalescing into Azimio and Karofsky as she worried. They loomed closer, almost as though they were heading straight for Quinn... Or Rachel...

Quinn's mind put together the pieces and made her act before she could even fully recognize what she was doing. The oafish boys both had full slushy cups and Quinn was suddenly extremely aware that the school didn't know Rachel was a cheerleader yet. Rachel couldn't even see them coming. Her own arms snapped out, all but tossing the shorter girl out of the way as the thugs tossed their drinks.

The blue and purple liquids streaked through the air Rachel had occupied only a half-second previously, splattering across Quinn's face and clothes. She could hear the brunette gasp as the two idiots laughed, high-fiving each other. Then they noticed that they hadn't actually hit their target. They backed up a few steps quietly. Apparently the joke wasn't quite as funny when Quinn Fabray was bearing down on you with bared teeth and clenched fists.

"David Allen Karofsky," she hissed furiously, "what in God's name do you think you're doing?" Quinn was certain she looked livid, even with ice dripping slowly from her hair. She had wanted to relieve some pressure and, since she couldn't yell at Rachel or Finn, Karofsky had just given her the perfect opportunity. She didn't even care about Azimio fleeing back down the hallway. Karofsky was the bully ringleader now that Puck was in Glee. If Quinn could intimidate him into submission she knew Rachel would be safe.

"Nothing, Fabray," Quinn could actually see his chest swell as he tried to defend his pride. That didn't matter though. Quinn could see the fear, either of her or of Sue, in his eyes. "I was just trying to slushy some loser, like normal." It wasn't working. Quinn could practically smell his desperation as she continued advancing.

"It's not my fault Glee turned you gay for freaking Berry!" Quinn stopped dead in her tracks, blinking slowly. How dare he? How could he even think that? No, it couldn't mean anything. He was just an idiot bully falling back on old insults. Her gaze flickered back and forth between Karofsky and Rachel, who was trying frantically to grab her attention. "You heard me. Yeah, once a Gleek always a Gleek. I bet Sylvester's... already..." His triumphant tone slowly faded and he trailed off as Quinn's furious gaze settled on him.

"You," she spat, "Are a God damned idiot Karofsky. Are you blind? Can you somehow not see the Cheerio's uniform in Rachel's arms?" Quinn was pretty sure Rachel had been trying to return that but she was grateful for it anyway. "Can your Neanderthal brain even try to comprehend why she might have that?"

"Uh... Loser wash service?" Karofsky joked lamely.

"No, idiot," Quinn could all but feel the angry heat she was giving off, "while you and all your asshole friends were busy getting cut from the football team," she quietly thanked Finn for that knowledge, "this 'loser' received a special invitation from Coach Sylvester to join the Cheerios." The blonde rotated, practically pinning Karofsky against the lockers.

"Do you have any idea what that means? We're champions. Your pathetic meatheads can't even carry a ball across a line. Now, I'm telling you..." Quinn lost her train of thought as a pair of small, oddly familiar, hands wrapped around her wrist.

"Quinn, Quinn!" Rachel was tugging insistently at her arm. "He's not worth it. There's a crowd gathering. Please." Quinn slowly let herself be turned around. She could suddenly feel the corn syrup and sugar congealing in her hair and the icy sludge dripping gradually down her skin. She shivered. The only place on her body that felt warm was where Rachel's hands closed over her skin. She cast a single glance back at Karofsky, who looked more relieved than Quinn had ever seen him, before a distressed pull from Rachel regained her attention.

The shorter girl's look of concern was just, somehow, more important than the anger it had extinguished. It was really the only important thing Quinn could think of. She didn't care about the crowd of people they were pressing through. She didn't care about how Karofsky would probably try to spin this into a victory. She didn't even care about the muttering sussurations running through the students. The only thing that mattered was making sure Rachel was happy. That had been part of Sue's plan or, at least, that's what Quinn could remember.

The smaller girl was leading her along and Quinn couldn't find the will to protest. Her hands had slipped downward on the blonde's arm and both girls' fingers clasped together as they walked. Quinn's brain felt frozen and she wasn't sure if it was from the frigid drink or Rachel's digits gently shifting between her own. She wondered when she had started permitting the brunette to boss her around but cut the train of thought short when Karofsky's taunt slipped back into her mind. She had managed to brush it off when she was yelling at him. She should have the focus to ignore it now.

They stopped briefly at Rachel's locker, "For my de-slushying kit," before continuing to the nearby bathroom. It was only then that Quinn noticed Rachel's intense blush. She had been too occupied, both with her own thoughts and the brunette's hand, to pay much attention. Still, she couldn't fathom what Rachel could have been embarassed about. In fact, Quinn was surprised Rachel hadn't laughed when she was drenched. She didn't care how forgiving or kind the brunette was. A person couldn't just erase years of bullying in one night.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn," the taller girl raised an eyebrow incredulously. Rachel was sorry? For what? "That should have been me. You didn't have to save me." Quinn couldn't believe it. The brunette was feeling guilty for watching her longtime torturor get some of what she deserved? She didn't even understand. Even if Quinn hadn't acted involuntarily she still would have made the choice to push Rachel out of the way. Another slushying would have only proved to the diva that nothing was going to change.

Rachel unfolded a stained metal chair, which had obviously been used for slushy clean-up before, and positioned it in front of one of the sinks before continuing speaking. "Especially since I had just been doubting your sincerity. I should have been willing to believe you after your honesty about Finn." The brunette was quiet for a moment and Quinn was surprised at her own sudden urge to come clean. She suppressed it, of course, there was too much riding on this lie to throw it away. It didn't matter what it was Rachel was making her feel.

Quinn's mind wandered back to Karofsky's taunt and her own strange reaction to it. There was no substance to the accusation, she absolutely was not gay, but she had been acting odd around Berry. Whatever they had felt open or, at least, like it should have been open. Quinn didn't want to have to lie to her anymore. Was that what actual friendship was supposed to be like? Could they really be friends, at least for two months?

"In a way, Quinn," Rachel spoke again, slicing the soft silence. "I really deserved those slushies. I was selfish, only thinking about myself. It's not one of my better traits." The shorter girl looked almost terrified; standing there, admitting something she obviously considered a weakness to one of her former tormentors. Quinn surprised herself by shaking her head but Rachel didn't let her get a word in.

"Don't disagree with me, Quinn. I might not like that part of myself but without it I wouldn't have my admirable drive to excell. It's a blessing and a curse but without it I wouldn't be the person I am." Rachel started up the sink closest to her and pointed imperatively at her chair. "Now, I feel terrible that you had to take my slushies. I should have trusted you about the Cheerios; I can see that now." Quinn's incredulous look deepened as her gut spasmed with guilt. That, she reminded herself, was the reason they couldn't even be friends. Anything they had would be based on lies and Quinn didn't think she could stand having to betray a real friend. Especially not her first one.

That realization hit hard too. She had never worried much about having friends before. She had never felt a reason to. She had been popular, adored even, for most of her school career and even during her pregnancy Glee had still been there. Now that she considered it, though, there wasn't a single person Quinn considered herself close to. She had her sycophants back, the school was perfectly willing to worship her again now that she had returned to glory, but they didn't matter. None of the people she actually knew were on proper terms with her.

Kurt and Mercedes had been friends with her. Mercedes had even given her a place to live. Quinn was pretty sure that friendship had vanished over the summer, though. Finn was her boyfriend but she was really just using him. Puck, for all his purported 'love,' was barely even speaking to her. Her parents were actively forcing her to live a lie. Her coach saw her as a tool to be used. It was Rachel, only Rachel, who cut through Quinn's own bullshit and was kind and honest in return

"So, to make it up to you," Quinn's mind felt like it had been going a hundred miles an hour, the same as her heart. Rachel hadn't even finished her thought. "I am going to help you clean up." The brunette forced an encouraging smile but Quinn could see a tightness in her eyes. She was still a little worried. "I happen to know for a fact that it's much easier to clean out someone else's hair than your own."

"Besides, I think we can both agree, this is an area in which you were never any competition for me." Quinn couldn't help herself. When she heard Rachel's one insult from their Monday confrontation used as a joke, even a weak one, she started laughing. The fact that they had been arguing seemed stupid. There hadn't even been a reason for it.

It didn't take long for the brunette to join in, dispelling most of the tension in the room. Quinn was glad, hearing their bell-like peals of laughter mingle as they echoed about the room. She had been afraid that Rachel would have misunderstood, thinking the blonde was laughing at her. She weakly staggered over to the chair, holding her side as she giggled. The joke hadn't even been that funny. Just hearing Rachel laugh had made her want to laugh more.

Leaning back in the chair, head resting against the sink, Quinn could see that the fear had melted from Rachel's eyes. They had both managed to calm down, with only an occasional chuckle slipping out, and Quinn stayed silent as she watched the other girl. Rachel, to her credit, was silent as well as her fingers combed warm water through icy blonde hair. The taller girl could see a concern, no, really more of a care settle on her face as she worked. She realized that Rachel probably knew exactly how this felt. The stinging chill, the humiliation, the anger, Rachel had been slushied more than anyone else in the school. She must have been sympathizing with Quinn.

Except, Rachel had never had another person to help her. She had had to make these trips to the bathroom alone, somehow trying to get herself entirely clean. She had never had another persons wet fingers running through her hair, brushing lightly against her scalp. The warm skin and warmer water left a pleasantly burning trail across her head as they cleansed away the sticky ice. Quinn let her eyes slowly flutter closed, losing sight of Rachel's warm brown eyes to focus more fully on her sense of touch.

Rachel's hands were wiping her brain clean again. Quinn exhaled a long, contented, sigh as the fingers continued their journey across her head. Rachel stopped for a moment, after that, and Quinn felt her own face scrunch in disapproval. She actually whined quietly once before the smaller girl resumed her ministrations and the blonde could lose herself in feeling again. Eventually it felt like there wasn't even any ice left but Rachel's fingers didn't stop. The only break was when the brunette lifted her hands to lather together some shampoo.

Before long Rachel had shampooed, conditioned, and thoroughly cleansed Quinn's hair but the water still didn't stop. Rachel's voice spoke, almost right into Quinn's ear. "Quinn, I'm done with your hair now. I-I-I think you took too long with David, though. Your clothes are soaked through." She couldn't help but wonder why the other girl sounded nervous again. The blonde could hear Rachel rummaging about in her bag and she opened one hazel eye to take a look. The diva slowly, sheepishly, pulled out an outfit almost identical to the atrocity she had on. This time around it didn't take Quinn nearly as long to understand.

"Nothing else?" she questioned, wondering if the diva owned any normal clothes.

"Well, no other clothes," Rachel still looked embarassed but Quinn didn't really care. She just wanted that feeling back. "I'm sorry about that. I just hadn't planned on needing a change of clothes for someone else. If you really want to you can keep wearing that." The shorter girl gestured to Quinn's previously-white blouse. The fabric had been stained almost black.

"There's something else, though, and I don't want you to take offense." Quinn assumed this was why the brunette sounded so embarassed. The other girl was certainly blushing harder. It didn't make much sense for her to be so worried about the clothes, either, even as hideous as they were. The blonde waited, slightly impatiently, for Rachel to finish up her thought.

"This is just a suggestion," Quinn had to keep herself from grumbling at the continued hedging, "because I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. I've noticed that if you don't clean off your skin then changing your clothes really doesn't matter because you're still sticky and disgusting and you just end up ruining another entire outfit." Rachel was accelerating as she continued to speak. Quinn couldn't even tell if the smaller girl was breathing.

"I've also noticed, on my own, that it's really rather hard to clean off your own back properly. So, what I'm suggesting is, regardless of whether you choose to keep your blouse or change; that you allow me to wash the rest of the ice off your back." Quinn had to prevent herself from cracking up laughing again. Rachel had finished her spiel with her performing smile, as though she had just finished a monologue. It took her a moment before she could actually focus on what the smaller girl had said.

Quinn's first instinct was to agree, immediately. Her back felt coated in sticky syrup and Rachel and her talented fingers clearly knew what they were doing. Almost as quickly, though, she heard two imagined voices hissing in her mind.

"Gay for Berry..." leered Karofsky. Quinn wished she had replied with something sooner. School politics were treacherous and she had no doubt that her brief silence had condemned her to many of the students watching. It wasn't fair! Sue was making her be nice to Rachel! Quinn didn't have a real choice! She had to spend time with...

"That, sinful, abominable, hellspawn!" Russell Fabray ranted, "You know better than this, Quinn! Gays cannot be good people and they cannot raise good people! They are incapable of normal love! That girl will corrupt you more thoroughly than Sodom and Gomorrah!" It had been one of her father's more memorable rants. He had not been pleased to discover that his daughter had joined Glee. Quinn had been surprised, at first, that he was so much more upset about Rachel than Kurt. The boy was flamingly gay and Rachel was... Quinn actually didn't know what Rachel was but she had certainly chased Finn hard enough.

Things made more sense after Quinn had discovered Rachel's fathers. The two men were some of the only people willing to stand up to Russell. At least Kurt had had a 'normal' childhood. In Mr. Fabray's mind there was absolutely no hope for Rachel Berry. Quinn shuddered. In a way, this was the most dangerous part of her life right now. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place with only the slightest room to breathe. If she abandoned Rachel, Sue would be on her case immediately. However,if Russell found out then things would fall apart just as badly.

In the end, Quinn only managed to push her upsetting thoughts away because the brunette was sitting there, waiting for an answer. She wasn't gay, she knew that much. Even if she didn't express it much she knew she could love people. Rachel was just offering her a favor and, since she had to be a friend, she was accepting. The fact that it felt nice didn't mean anything.

"Sorry," the blonde said, starting off. Rachel's face fell slightly and Quinn realized the other girl probably thought she was turning her down. "No, no Rachel. I'm saying sorry for taking so long. It's fine, go right ahead, and thanks for the clothes. I'll give them back when it's time for practice." Sue had mandated that the Cheerios uniforms couldn't be worn in the halls anymore after several girls had come in covered in slushy stains. Rachel had probably only had hers for sizing. Quinn shucked off her ruined blouse and tank top, leaning forward in her chair so her back was exposed. Except for her bra, of course. She'd have to think of a reason why her father's favorite outfit had been destroyed before she got home.

"Alright then." Rachel said, hesitantly moving towards the blonde. Quinn rested her chin on her hands as she waited for the other girl to get over her shyness. It was aggravating. The longer the brunette took to get started the more self-concious she became. She could tell, looking down at the stained tops of her breasts, that her back was probably covered in a sticky blue sheen.

It couldn't have been that terrible though. Quinn prided herself on her appearance. She had worked back into perfect shape after a pregnancy, for heaven's sake. How was it that Berry wasn't even willing to touch her? She had to fight the urge to snap at Rachel to get on with it.

Then the brunette's warm soapy hands pressed heavily against her skin and Quinn couldn't hold in a satisfied groan. It felt so much better than it had when those same fingers had been dancing across her head. Rachel's skin wasn't just warm. In fact, it felt barely shy of searing pressed against Quinn's clammy back. The feeling of the sticky syrup being lifted from her skin, along with the spreading warmth and the massage-like pressure of Rachel's hands, was divine.

Quinn didn't think she had ever felt more comfortable in a metal chair. At least, she hadn't felt this good the only other time she'd had someone help her clean off a slushy. Finn had clearly possessed no idea what he had been doing. It hadn't been his fault. Quinn figured she wouldn't have done any better. They just didn't have the same level of experience as Rachel. They didn't know what cleansers and lotions would get the disgusting drink stains off skin. Rachel did and she was very good at it.

The blonde bit her lip, hoping the other girl couldn't see the flush in her face. She hadn't stopped with the first groan. She didn't think she could have stopped at the first groan. It just felt too damn good. Rachel's fingers had been pulling tiny sighs of contentment over Quinn's lips from the very first moments. She felt like she had to explain, otherwise Rachel could've stopped. Her foggy mind couldn't offer more protest, though, than.

"I'm not Gay." Quinn might have berated herself for the statement if she had been thinking clearly. Karofsky had clearly gotten inside her head somehow. She knew she wasn't gay. Why did she feel like she had to tell Rachel?

"Mmhmm?" Rachel said. Quinn couldn't tell whether the tone in the brunette's voice was amused or confused. She certainly didn't sound convinced. The blonde probably would have been offended if she hadn't been sitting there, letting the shorter girl slip her hands under her bra clasp to clean. Quinn rallied her thoughts together. She had to make the other girl understand.

"What Karofsky said," her voice still wasn't controlled as she would have liked. The continued contented noises punctuating her sentence probably didn't help. "I'm not, really."

"Quinn, it's..." Rachel tried to speak but Quinn cut her off. This was important, Rachel had to understand.

"I mean, no offense to Kurt or your fathers, Rachel," Mr. and Mr. Berry were both actually decent people, from what Quinn had seen. "I just think it's wrong. That's what I've learned my entire life and it's wrong. I really appreciate this, R, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't giving off the wrong message." She wriggled uncomfortably as the other girl's hands lifted away.

"I think your back's about done now, Quinn." Rachel's voice sounded cold and the blonde looked up so she could make eye contact. It was painful. Quinn hadn't meant to hurt her. Rachel's caring glow had vanished along with her smile. The brunette tossed a few bottles into the sink behind Quinn's head. "There you go, now you can clean the rest of yourself off. I ought to get to class anyway. Can you give that to Miss Sylvester for me?" Rachel pointed to the Cheerios uniform she had left on the floor. "I don't think the atmosphere will be right for me there." Rachel turned, clearly intending to leave.

For the second time that day Quinn's body acted without her permission. She panicked, jumping from the chair towards the smaller girl.

"Rachel, wait!" Quinn knew that Sue would kill her if the diva didn't join but that, strangely, didn't feel like her motivation. She realized that she was worrying about Rachel's feelings again. She needed them to be on good terms. She needed them to be friends.

Quinn wondered when she had actually made that decision. She had never conciously decided to accept Rachel's offer of friendship, not genuinely. However, this seemed like yet another area where she didn't have a choice. It was different, though, in that this time it was herself not giving herself a choice. She needed this, no matter how it was going to end. She needed a friend she could confide in and talk to and Rachel Berry was the only actual candidate. So, Quinn said something she felt she should have long ago.

"I'm sorry." Quinn wasn't just apologizing for her rudeness in the moment. Those words were supposed to stand for everything she had done, was doing, and was going to do to Rachel. She knew the brunette could feel her sincerity as well. Rachel turned back around, unfolding her arms. With the other girl's eyes on her Quinn was suddenly very aware that, above the belt, she had nothing on but a stained bra. She didn't have time to worry though. Rachel needed her too.

"I'm sorry for everything, Rachel. All the bullying, all the names, everything." Quinn explained desperately. This was what she really needed Rachel to understand. "I want to... No. I have to make things better."

"So you're going to do that by throwing me to the Cheerios?" Once again Rachel sounded sad, almost terrified, rather than angry. "Do you remember when Kurt joined the football team?" The blonde nodded, "Nothing changed for him, not even when he was the only person scoring. He was still tormented and bullied every single day. Why should it be any different for me, the girl who doesn't even have any friends? Is that your apology, Quinn? Are you planning to make things better by leaving me with people who hate me?"

"Rachel," Quinn spoke calmly, despite her racing pulse. "Do you know what promise I made to your fathers two nights ago?"

"I don't see at all what that has to do with anything, Quinn"

"Please, just answer the question."

Rachel was silent for a long moment, apparently thinking. Quinn didn't think she would leave though. The brunette just needed reassurance that someone cared. Someone who wasn't obligated to, like her fathers. Her boyfriend had betrayed her, the school that should have loved her talent loathed her, and her own mother left and chose another child. Quinn thought Rachel Berry needed a real friend even more than she did.

"No, no I don't know." The shorter girl waited quietly and Quinn thought she could see a quiet desperation in her downcast eyes.

"What I promised them, Rachel, is that I would keep you safe." The blonde kept her distance. She didn't want to ruin things by offending the other girl again. "The difference between you and Kurt is that Finn thought just being on the team would be enough. The difference between you and Kurt is that no one was watching out for him."

"The difference, Rachel, between you and Kurt is that you actually do have a friend." Quinn smiled down at the smaller girl, "Me."

"I-I-I don't know, Quinn" Rachel was swaying softly, still refusing to make actual eye contact with Quinn. "The Cheerios really don't like me. The entire school, except you now, can't stand me." Rachel crinkled her brow, seemingly confused by that fact.

"Then forget them, Rachel." Quinn had never felt softer, more exposed, but she had also never been more sure of what she was doing. "You and I both know that you are so much bigger than them and their Lima loser lives." The blonde almost slipped, almost choked up, when she realized that that was what she was setling for. It had already been planned out for her. She would marry the star quarterback, whoever that ended up being, and stay in Lima forever. Her father had a chokehold on her entire life.

"Look, I can't promise that people are going to love you right away." Quinn mostly recovered, there was still a little wobble in her tone. "They will eventually, though, most of the student body members are sort of sheep. What I can promise you is that as long as you and I are both still at Mckinley you will never take another slushy again." Quinn swallowed with difficulty, getting herself back under control.

"Is that," Rachel paused, "just if I join the Cheerios." This time she sounded bitter but at least that was a step up from terrified. Quinn felt like she knew what to say instinctively, like making the diva feel better was the most natural thing in the world. That was odd, very odd, after so many years of doing her very best to make Rachel miserable.

"No. That's an unconditional promise." There, peeking through Rachel's hurt sadness, Quinn could see the beginnings of her smile. She didn't even try and fight her own mind this time. That smile was on loan to her for two or three months. Until then, it was hers. "It will be much easier to keep if you do though. Coach Sylvester will be able to help out that way."

"Rachel?" Quinn wanted to make sure she had the brunette's full attention. The shorter girl turned her face upwards and, for the first time, Quinn didn't feel like she was drowning in those dark brown eyes.

"Quinn?"

"I will keep that promise even if I have to take every single slushy for you."

They were quiet for a long time, standing there staring into each others eyes. Quinn could feel Rachel searching her, looking for the lie that wasn't there. She would talk to Sue somehow, convince her that they didn't need to cut Rachel that hard. Maybe they wouldn't need to cut the diva at all. It wouldn't matter if she was still on the squad as long as Glee was destroyed. That was Sue's goal, wasn't it?

"Thank you," Rachel murmured softly. The shorter girl was suddenly moving closer but, this time, Quinn didn't panic. She just let Rachel encircle her, wrapping her own arms around the other girl in return. The brunette pulled tight, pressing against Quinn's exposed body. She ignored the flaming burn Rachel's skin left where it touched hers. The blonde wasn't sure if it was the corrupting hellfire her father had always promised or just what actual friendship was but it didn't matter. This was what both girls needed.

It didn't last long. Rachel broke away after a few seconds, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. Quinn didn't mind though. For once something legitimately wasn't about her and it felt nice.

"You really probably should clean yourself up though, Quinn." Rachel said hurriedly. Quinn frowned slightly. Had the silence been awkward? She hadn't noticed. "We've already missed a class period. I know you like to maintain your 4.0 so you might want to hurry. I'll leave you my kit, just put it in my locker after you're done. The code is Finn's cell number."

Quinn was surprised at the sudden flare of anger she felt and was even more surprised at the target. What had Finn been doing? She had to squash down the urge to pull Rachel back to her, not angrily, posessively. Him and her interacting would be the quickest possible way to mess up absolutely everything. Rachel kept talking, though, and Quinn was slightly soothed by the fact that the quarterback was only an afterthought. Rachel had probably just set the lock combination when they had actually been together.

"I will, however, need this though." the brunette danced over to her carefully folded uniform, smiling happily at Quinn. She gathered up the clothes and headed for the door yet again.

"So, see you at practice Rachel?"

Rachel stopped and nodded without turning.

"Yes, yes I think I will, Q."


	6. Chapter 5: Cheer

A/N1: Alright, Disclaimer time. I do not own Glee or any of the characters from it, only my own point of view. All of the names chosen for other cheerleaders are either jokes or meaningless. No resemblance to actual people intended. I also have next-to-no awareness of Glee Season 4 so I can't change anything based on that.

A/N2: I'd like to let you all know that this fic is going to be really really long. As proof I'd like to offer up the fact that we're still in week 1 this chapter. I have three whole years planned out. We might be here a while.

A/N3: This is the part where I talk about the story a bit. Todays topic? Quinn as a thinker: I've always seen Quinn as a really really smart girl. The kind who doesn't easily miss things and needs to analyze just about everything before she acts. This is a good thing, because she's proficient at figuring things out, but also a bad thing, because she's hardly in the most healthy mental state. She's good at leading herself to the conclusions she wants to reach, when she has to. It also means she zones out quite a bit, never more than when she's with Rachel. That's because Rachel is the one thing that keeps challenging Quinn's fake-logic bubble, she can't quite keep her in the box she wants. Rachel makes Quinn think and keep thinking.

A/N4: I'd like to thank RecalltheLove for being the first Faberry author I ever read anything from. Without her I'd have never started down this road. I'd probably never have discovered Faberry at all. She's an amazing fluff Goddess and I'm deeply respectful of her influence on my writing.

A/N5:Reviews are, of course, appreciated greatly.

Chapter 5:

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

''Alright ladies, listen up!'' Quinn winced. She was standing, as usual, at the front of the Cheerios formation and Sue Sylvester's megaphone-enhanced voice was threatening to blow her eardrums. If the slightly manic coach hadn't held the attention of every girl on the field before then she certainly did now.

''Before I can start roasting the new meat,'' the faintest hint of a predatorial smile flickered across Sue's deadpan face, obviously taking in the sight of her new cheerleaders from behind her aviators, ''I'm afraid I've finally been obligated to start tking roll, some outragous nonsense about extracurricular credit needing to go to the right people.'' Quinn could hear shifting, even hushed whispers from some of the newer girls, behind her but she stood at attention. After two years, one as captain, she had grown used to how Sue and the Cheerios worked.

More than that, Quinn had actually missed how the Cheerios worked. She'd missed Sylvester's half-affectionate/half-malicious brand of insanity. She'd missed the two mile run at the start of every practice. She'd especially missed the power that came with squad membership.

When you were a Cheerio the school simply belonged to you. Girls groveled for your attention. Boys fell down and worshipped you. No one in the entire school, not even Jacob Ben Israel or Dave Karofsky, would dare touch the lowest ranking Cheerio on the squad.

And Quinn Fabray was far from the lowest on the squad.

This, first, practice simply confirmed what Quinn had spent the rest of the week establishing; Queen Bee Quinn Fabray was back. She had the power. She had the captaincy. She had the favor of Sue Sylvester who, at McKinley, was more like a god than a mere teacher.

That wasn't all though. Quinn actually had even more than she had had the year before. This year she wasn't just relying on teeth-clenched friendship with Santana or Brittany's dim, perceptive, sweetness to back her up.

This year by some act of the supernatural, Quinn still wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, Rachel Berry was standing in formation right behind her.

As her friend.

That thought did break Quinn's concentration; her mind just couldn't process it, and she had turned her head to check on the smaller girl before she could even think about it. It lmost surprised her that Rachel was still there, star-smile plastered across her face. The Cheerios should have been a foreign environment to the girl. Yet, somehow, Quinn couldn't deny that the red skirt and ponytail suited Rachel. The diva had always had the confidence; it was like all she had been lacking was the uniform.

Quinn didn't realize she had been staring until she noticed Rachel's smile changing, softening, sweetening into her smile. The smile that always immediately started lulling Quinn's mind into that warm, soft, fuzzy place.

She snapped back to attention before she could totally lose control of herself. She couldn't let Sylvester know that she'd overshot the goal; that Rachel had gained her confidence as well. Quinn knew that she'd have to stand up to the coach for Rachel eventually but now wasn't the time. Rachel hadn't proved that she would be an asset to the team yet and Sue would just assume that her captain was going soft yet again. The terrifying teacher would have no problem throwing out both of them. Neither of them would be able to help the other very much if that happened.

So it was in both Quinn and Rachel's best interests for Quinn to remain silent, at least for a little while. She had two entire months to pick a time anyway.

Sue had finally stopped making wisecracks and started taking roll by the time Quinn actually managed to focus. She still couldn't wipe her own stupid smile off her face but at least she was alert enough to hear Sue call out:

''Adler, Teresa!'' Almost immediately Quinn was jostled to the side, scoffing incredulously, as a short redheaded girl ran up and... Curtsied in front of the coach.

''Present, Miss Sylvester!'' The girl announced proudly. Several of the senior Cheerios snickered. Quinn just rolled her eyes. There was one every year; one girl thought that standing out would get her something special, one girl who didn't recognize that the squad was a team. The blonde girl shook her head. She was just glad someone had done it before Rachel got the chance to.

''T,'' Sue had slowly, silently, lowered her sunglasses in her freehand so she could stare at the poor girl. Adler, to her credit, looked like she was realizing just how bad her idea had actually been. ''Why did you break formation?'' Sue was deadly serious, she always was when her squad was involved, but Quinn could sense her satisfaction. Sue loved making examples of people.

''I-I'm sorry Miss Sylvester,'' the redhead was blushing so hard that her skin nearly matched her hair, ''All I wanted was to impress you. A-and...''

''Then you're a little bit addled, Adler,'' The coach cut smoothly into Teresa's weak explanation, ''You see, you're supposed to impress me during tryouts and you only just barely managed there.'' Sue paused, apparently thoughtful, ''I'd invite you to take a look around but, since I doubt you can see over the shoulders of a dwarf,'' Quinn could practically hear Rachel stiffen behind her as Adler visibly did the same. The redhead must have been sensitive about her height and Rachel had spent years getting tormented for it as well. Quinn wouldn't have been surprised if her friend had thought the comment was aimed at her. ''that would just be wasting time.''

''However,'' Sue continued, ''if you were to acquire a stepladder, trampoline, or jetpack you would be able to see that I had you arranged by hair color to form a Sue-tiful image of my own likeness. That way, after a quick call to my friends in the Russian spy satellite department later today, I'll finally have a self-portrait I can be proud of.'' Sylvester pinned the girl with a glare and she froze. Quinn didn't think Teresa was even breathing now.

''Is that something you wanted to ruin?'' Adler could barely manage a shake of her head. Quinn imagined she was probably on the verge of tears. ''Good, get back to your position.'' She took two steps backwards before Sue stopped her yet again, ''Actually, wait. I do have something special for you.''

''Really?'' Even Quinn snickered at the earnest hope rushing back into the redhead's voice. She had no idea just how doomed she really was.

''You betcha, kiddo,'' Sue had her manic smile on now, ''for the first month you get to run laundry duty. After that you'll be spending the rest of the season with DeeDee over there,'' the coach gestured at Santana and the Latina muttered something under her breath, ''on the Grassmunchers.'' The Grassmunchers were the bottom row of every one of Sue's formations, so called thanks to the unfortunate frequency with which their faces were forced to the ground.

''Any questions?'' Sue replaced her sunglasses and looked down at her clipboard, topic clearly closed. The redhead just slunk back to position, tears dripping down her cheeks, as Sue continued calling names.

''Allen, Chelsea!'' Another new girl but this time, as expected, she just raised her hand timidly and the coach moved on, apparently satisfied that her point had been made.

''That really wasn't very fair.'' Quinn very nearly jumped as Rachel spoke. The brunette wasn't making any effort at all to be quiet. It was almost like she wanted Sue to hear.

''Amber, Jade!'' The blank grey slates of the coach's aviators betrayed nothing.

''No, R,'' Quinn ventured cautiously, eyes glued to the coach, ''it isn't fair. You have to remember, though, that we're talking about Sue Sylvester here.'' The blonde hoped that Rachel could hear her and she fervently, desperately, hoped that Sue couldn't.

''Arnolds, Helga!'' Sylvester had to have noticed something, they already had the attention of most of the cheerleaders nearby, what was she doing?

''I'm sorry, Quinn, but that's no excuse,'' Rachel kept talking right over, 'Azimio, Heather!' ''If I backed down every time Mr. Schue tried to take my solos Glee would be doomed and I'd have no future as a performer. Somebody has to stand up for what's right here and it looks like I'm the only person willing to do so.''

''Oh, God,'' Quinn hissed. Couldn't Rachel see that she was only trying to protect her? ''Rachel, please don't...''

''Berry, Rachel!'' The blonde fought the urge to turn around. She had to stay calm.

''Present, Miss Sylvester!'' the diva chirped defiantly. Quinn groaned quietly, wishing she could just crumple to the ground. Several of the older Cheerios had moved on from quiet snickers to full-on laughs. Man-hands herself finally had the opportunity to pull herself up and she was blowing it like this? Quinn's eyes flickered back to Rachel, waiting expectantly, passed by Santana, who shrugged her best 'Well, you're fucked' shrug, and returned to the coach.

''You've got spunk, R. I like it.'' The Cheerios' tittering stopped immediately. Even Quinn's mouth dropped open slightly. ''Shows potential.''

The captain turned, taking in the smug, self-satisfied, look on Rachel's face. She didn't think there was a single girl on the field who wasn't staring straight at the singer. Couldn't Berry play by the rules anywhere? Quinn's mind raced, trying to puzzle out exactly what was going on.

''So, in order to squeeze out every last drop of that juicy Berry potential, I'm assigning you a permanent partnership. Fabray!'' Quinn's gaze snapped instantly back to the coach. Beneath the sunglasses Sue was sporting a smirk nearly identical to Rachel's. ''You're in charge of training our new co-captain.'' As the blonde put together that last sentence with the psychotic grin on Sue's face the rest of the pieces began to fall into place.

''Bunt, Karen! You have a terrible name for a cheerleader. You're cut!'' Sue continued and a girl ran off the field, weeping, as Quinn turned to look at Rachel once again. The girl was beaming, the very picture of satisfaction, but none of the other cheerleaders had changed their focus either. nearly all of them were glaring directly at Rachel. Adler, in particular, looked positively livid. None of them saw what Quinn could see.

Sue was playing all of them perfectly. Nobody would fight Rachel's appointment, opposing the coach was generally a death sentence, but every one of them would resent it. They barely thought Treasure Trail deserved to be ther at all, much less as their leader. When she fell from grace in two months there wouldn't be a single voice of objection. Most of the Cheerios would probably volunteer to help with the slushie bath. Sue really had planned out everything.

Except... There was no way Sue could have planned for Quinn's change of heart. She couldn't possibly know that Quinn wouldn't, no, couldn't hurt Rachel anymore. There had to be something she could do, she was the captain after all. Maybe she could train Rachel to the point where she was vital to the team. Maybe she could convince enough of the other Cheerios that Rachel belonged. Quinn's entire head was suddenly filled with maybes until one thought silenced all the others.

If,after everything Quinn could do, Rachel fell the blonde would still be there to catch her. Rachel would have a friend on the Cheerios, if she wanted one. Quinn hoped she would still want one. The brunette had always forgiven her before. It was just that, for the first time, Quinn hoped she wouldn't have to.

''Fabray, Quinn!'' Sylvester's voice grabbed Quinn's attention yet again and she turned, arm raising reflexively. The coach was still grinning devilishly, clearly expecting her captain's full cooperation. The blonde didn't respond, instead carefully keeping her face unreadable.

The rest of the roll passed without incident. Quinn was grateful for that, since it meant that she hadn't devolved into a blubbering mess. There was more danger of that than she had been anticipating, earlier in the day, since Rachel had moved to stand beside her, claiming her co-captain's spot.

And proximity to Rachel had become very dangerous to Quinn's concentration recently.

This time it was the damned Cheerio skirts. They really were indecently short. Berry had hardly been a stranger to stupidly short skirts before but this was different. Today there weren't any owl sweaters or argyle stockings to hide the fact that years of daily training had given Rachel smooth, tanned, toned thighs.

''God bless the perv who invented these,'' Quinn mumbled absent-mindedly. It was really the only coherent thought in her mind.

''What was that?'' Rachel's voice pulled Quinn's hazel eyes up to meet chocolate ones. The blonde suddenly realized that Rachel had been watching her stare, practically ogle, at her.

Quinn shook her head dismissively and turned to focus on coach Sylvester, fighting the blush that was threatening to break free and ruin her. She had to find a way to keep Berry out of her head. She had to do it for Berry's own good. She wouldn't be able to protect anybody if she fell too.

''Zimmerman, Alycia!'' Sue cried out. The final girl on the field raised her hand as the coach checked off a box at the bottom of her sheet. Satisfied, Sue crumpled the paper in her hand and tossed it carelessly over her shoulder.

''Good, now that that's finally out of the way the old hags can go warm-up proper. I've got a special pep-talk for all the younglings. it's called 'Half of you are cut from the team because I only needed you for your hair color.' '' Quinn could hear Rachel's tiny terrified inhalation and she almost acted, almost reached out with words to reassure the brunette, but Sue plowed ahead instead.

''Except you, R. _We can't let any time go to waste now, can we?_'' A chill ran down Quinn's spine. She could have sworn the coach was staring straight at her, not Rachel. ''So get to it.''

The blonde didn't know if she had been proffering her hand subconciously or if Rachel had acted on her own initiative but her fingers were suddenly enveloped in the smooth warmth of Rachel's grasp. The pair followed slowly after the rest of the squad to the far end of the field, content to share a quiet comforting moment. Sue haranguing the newest girls was scarcely an afterthought for Quinn. Rachel was safe, for now, and their clasped hands felt like a reassurance for both of them.

''Awww,'' Santana drawled sarcastically as the co-captains passed her, ''It's great to see that you two are suddenly such fantastic friends. You know, I thought it would be harder. I thought you wouldn't have time since Goldilocks bailed on Glee and the smurf has some sort of hyper-kinetic schedule planned out for the next 20 years.'' The Latina shook her head. ''How did you do it?''

Quinn knew that Santana just wanted to get a rise out of her, some response or action that would let her feel in control again. She wasn't going to give the girl the satisfaction. She knew better than to respond.

But Rachel didn't

''Santana Lopez,'' The brunette turned to walk back towards the smirking Latina, dropping Quinn's hand. The blonde sighed as she followed Rachel back, not quite sure if it was in exasperation or disappointment. ''AS hard as I find it to believe that you, of all people, have any genuine concern or interest in our relationship,'' Quinn winced as she saw Santana's smirk widen, dark eyes looking back and forth very obviously between the two other girls. The blonde could already tell where her former friend was going to take this. ''I'll have you know that Quinn and I spent a lovely evening together at my house not two days ago.''

''Oh did you?'' The Latina was openly leering at the two them now, ''I can't possibly imagine what you two got up,'' she glanced blatantly down, as though she could see through their skirts, ''or down, to over there. Want to fill me...''

''San, play nice,'' Quinn silently thanked God for Brittany S. Pierce and whatever bizarre hold she had on Santana. The Latina slept around with a lot of people, as did Brittany, but only the blue-eyed innocent cheerleader had the power to totally silence her. San had her arms crossed, frowning sourly at the identical blushes on Quinn and Rachel's faces. ''Besides, you know you don't need to ask anybody else. I always want to fill you.''

''Britt, not the time!'' Now it was Santana's turn to blush and Quinn's turn to smirk. Quinn had learned a thing or two about the dark-skinned girl through years of friendship: what made her tick, what she hated, what she loved.

Santana Lopez loved two things: Power and Brittany.

Quinn could see a way to use both.

Santana needed power to keep herself safe and she never felt like she had enough. In her eyes if you weren't moving forward you were falling behind and falling behind meant a hellish high school experience full of slushies and lesbian slurs. her problem was that now she had no way to move forward. Her assignment to the Grassmunchers had put an inpenetrable barrier in her way. Quinn, as captain, knew she could remove that barrier. Normally, though, with someone as bloodthirsty and power hungry as Santana it wouldn't be worth the risk.

But Quinn had Brittany.

That was how they had worked for so many years. Brittany had been the stabilizing element that kept the 'Unholy Trinity' from imploding. Santana would never willingly hurt Brittany and, for whatever reason, Britt wouldn't let the Latina turn on Quinn. The captain didn't quite understand Brittany's loyalty or why Santana didn't just go behind the dim cheerleader's back but she suspected that at least part of the reason for both was gratitude.

Santana and Brittany were radically different people. San was sarcastic where Britt was sweet. The blonde was innocent where the Latina was conniving. Hard and soft, dark and light, closed and perceptive, the only thing the two seemed to have in common was a nearly insatiable sex-drive. They should have been polar opposites.

In her hazy childhood memories, though, Quinn could remember collecting the other two girls from opposite ends of the elementary school playground, informing them that they were 'the prettiest girls in school.'

That, more than anything else, had been the beginning of their friendship. That was the reason, as far as Quinn could tell, why Santana had never backstabbed her. Quinn didn't know about Brittany but San, at least, was smart enough to see what could have happened. She could see that Brittany could have very easily ended up the Rachel to her Quinn.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like that relation at all. She couldn't be gay, least of all for Rachel Berry. If she was then she would have included the brunette in their group all those years ago. The blonde could remember passing by Berry on her way to get Brittany, doing everything she could to make it clear she wasn't welcome. That wasn't how gay people were supposed to act; gay girls were supposed to love other girls, so Quinn couldn't be gay. Karofsky and Santana were just getting inside her head somehow. She and Rachel were just friends. Rachel just needed a protector.

That was why Quinn needed Santana and Brittany back. The trio was a lot stronger together than when they were going solo. Brittany even seemed willing to help, to forgive and forget.

Quinn just had to convince Santana. The two were bickering and flirting quietly as Rachel looked on awkwardly. The shorter girl was still blushing fiercely. That wouldn't have normally surprised Quinn, she was listening to Santana and Brittany after all, but the terrified way she kept stealing glances at Quinn was... odd.

Quinn brushed the thought aside. She didn't have time to zone out again and Berry was always a little bit odd anyway.

''Alright ladies,'' The blonde snapped authoritatively, gaining the attention of all three girls, ''listen up! Since S just volunteered so graciously,'' the captain grinned faux-sweetly at the Latina, ''you two get to help me train our new co-captain.''

''Yeah, right,'' Santana actually snorted, ''Why the hell would we do that? Berry's _your_ assignment,'' San's tone left no doubt that she was talking about more than just training.

''Look at her, S,'' Quinn gestured to Rachel who, thankfully, had gotten her blush under control, ''she's tiny, flyer material if you ask me. I'm going to need a few extra girls to spot her and,'' Quinn smirked, ''you have experience on the bottom.''

''How does she know that you usually...''

''Grassmunchers Britt! That kind of bottom not... Ugh!'' Santana flipped her glare back to Quinn, ''Look, Preggers, I wouldn't care if training the smurf was the only way left to save baby elephants, I still wouldn't do it unless there were something in it for me.'' Santana slowly advanced on Quinn, leaving Brittany behind.

''There is, San,'' Quinn took a few steps of her own forward, ignoring Brittany's mumbled whisper of, 'Hot,' She couldn't falter. If the Unholy Trinity was going to reform then she had to be the leader again. Santana wouldn't help Rachel with anything. ''I don't know if you were paying attention or not but Sue just put a new girl on the Grassmunchers. That means somebody has to move up. Don't you think Coach might listen to her captains if they have strong feelings about who that someone should be?''

''Don't you think it might be a good idea to be on their good side?'' Quinn asked sarcastically.

''But, wait, I thought all of your sides looked good.'' Brittany said, confused. Quinn and Santana, in unison, glanced over to the other girl before turning back to glare at one another.

''Q,'' Quinn raised an eyebrow, Santana only lost the nicknames when she was ready to be serious. A variety of emotions fought for control of the Latina's features: anger, disappointment, and distrust were the most prevalent but, barely expressed, Quinn could see flickers of hope as well, ''What exactly are you offering?''

The blonde rolled her eyes. Was she going to have to spell it out to the other girl? ''S,'' she mimicked the other girl's serious tone mockingly, ''Help me with Rachel and you won't spend another day on the bottom of the pyramid.''

Santana thought for a moment and, really, Quinn couldn't blame her. The blonde had, after all, been the first one to break the uneasy truce Brittany had brought them. The realization twinged at Quinn's conscience: She was less trustworthy than _Santana Lopez_.

''Promise,'' Santana interjected suddenly, hand thrust forward and pinky extended. Quinn could only stare incredulously at the digit. She hadn't pinky-promised anything to the Latina since middle school. ''I help you with your new pet hobbit and you get me back with Britt, off the Grassmunchers.'' She pushed her hand forward insistently.

Quinn glanced quickly over to Rachel, now standing next to Brittany. The cheery blonde was whispering something in Rachel's ear and Rachel was smiling gently until she caught Quinn's gaze. The captain just hoped her friend had heard enough of the conversation to understand the question Quinn was asking with her eyes. She wasn't going to potentially humiliate herself in front of Santana if the brunette didn't want it. After a few agonizing seconds, though, the smaller girl nodded and Quinn turned back to Santana, linking their fingers. She took the opportunity to pull the other girl a little closer.

''San,'' Quinn said quietly, just barely above a whisper. She didn't want Rachel to hear this part. If Santana had needed a little extra reassurance about the entire situation then Quinn needed a lot. She knew that Santana only truly held one thing sacred: her relation with Brittany. She knew that the Latina would be uncomfortable knowing that Quinn knew, knowing that Quinn had the power to ruin her, until she felt like she was on even ground. She knew that Santana needed to feel like an equal. So, gritting her teeth, she continued, ''This isn't just for Sue anymore... Understand?'' She glanced back and forth between Rachel and Brittany, willing the dark-skinned girl to get the wrong impression.

''No...'' Santana's eyes widened, ''No. Fucking. Way.'' At least she was staying quiet. ''I knew it.'' She declared softly. Quinn almost winced. Rachel couldn't have any idea what the blonde was doing for her.

''Yes, way, S,'' Quinn said, fully aware of the new way Santana was assessing her. She didn't like the way those hard dark eyes lingered. She didn't like _where_ they lingered, ''So you'd best not fuck this one up. Got it?'' The Latina just nodded, smirking smugly, as Quinn turned to the other two girls.

''Alright then, it's decided. We're a team!'' The blonde announced. Brittany moved her arms around Rachel, pulling her into a hug.

''Welcome to the Cheerios, R.'' the innocent girl said happily. Rachel was blushing yet again as Brittany nuzzled affectionately against her. Quinn moved to stop it at the same time as Santana did, embarassment twinging yet again. Her motives were _completely_ different from Santana's. Rachel was blushing. That meant she was uncomfortable. Quinn was just worried for her friend's comfort. Rachel wouldn't want a lesbian like Brittany wrapped around her like that anyway.

They eventually managed to pry the blue-eyed girl off of Rachel and get down to practicing in earnest, none of them wanted Sylvester cracking down on themn and Quinn was surprised at how well they actually worked together. Quinn, Santana, and Brittany had always had a sort of natural rhthym together but Rachel fit into the group like she had been there her whole life. Quinn certainly hadn't expected her to learn so quickly. She suspected it was just a natural sort of grace, the same one that let the tiny brunette master dance steps almost without effort.

Eventually Sue finished with the new Cheerios, about a quarter of the original girls filing after the coach, and beckoned to the more-experienced group. Quinn drew the other three girls together for a brief moment.

''Listen, we don't have a ton of time before the first qualifying competition. You're coming along great, R, but I'm worried about time. We're having a special practice in a week after school. S's house. The Latina nodded her assent and the group split, fear of Sue keeping them from discussing the topic.

All-in-all Quinn was rather pleased with her work that day. She was happy, Rachel was happy, and, best of all, Santana was in a position where she wouldn't cause any more trouble.

And who could possibly cause more trouble than Santana?


	7. Interlude 1: Fall

A/N: This interlude has more language in it than others. Why? Because it's, principally, written inside Santana's head.

A/N2: Reviews are, of course, appreciated.

A/N3: Yes this is one of those interludes I mentioned two chapters back. Yes it is supposed to be short. It's also supposed to be taken slightly less seriously than the rest of the fic.

Interlude 5.5

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

''Fucking disgusting,'' muttered Santana Lopez as she watched Q walk off the field hand in hand with the dwarf. The blonde thought she was so damn clever, 'pretending' that she'd fallen for Berry. She didn't realize that anyone with a brain had already realized blondie was whipped, letting Treasure Trail lead her around the school like a puppy on a leash. It was nauseating.

''What?'' Brittany asked happily, wrapping her arms around the Latina from behind. Britt took advantage of the rapidly emptying field to press her lips to Santana's neck, nipping gently at the dark skin. Santana shivered in her blonde's tall grasp, racking her brain for a way to explain. Britt had actually noticed Pregger's shameful little crush years ago, commenting to the two other members of the Unholy Trinity about Quinn making 'love eyes' at Rachel.

That had been the first day Quinn Fabray personally delivered a slushie facial.

Santana would have been happy to let things lie there, minus the occasional jibe or jab, but now Q was out practically frenching the hobbit for all the world to see. Brittany could obviously see that, she had some sort of relationship-sense or something, but without being part of Sue's new little club there was no way she could know what it meant. She couldn't know that Berry's time with them was going to be mercifully short and, because she was tying herself to Man-hands, Quinn's would be too.

The Latina rolled her eyes as a terrible, fantastic, stupid, perfect way to explain entered her head. She and Brittany had watched every Disney movie in existence a hundred fucking times and there were hardly any people left on the field...

''I can see what's happening,'' she said/sang quietly, turning around in her blonde's arms.

''What?'' Brittany repeated, still puzzled.

''And they don't have a clue.''

''Who?'' Santana turned Brittany gently so she could see smurf and her pet before they rounded the corner behind the bleachers.

''They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line. Our trio's down to two.''

''Oh,'' Santana could tell that things had just clicked in Brittany's head but she kept going anyway. It was kind of a sweet moment.

''The sweet _caress_ of Man-hands,  
>There's magic everywhere,<br>and with all of this_ romantic atmosphere_,  
>Disaster's in the air!''<p>

Brittany giggled and Santana lost her focus for a moment. It was hard not to when the love of your life was leaning down and taking your lips with her own.

Quinn Fabray looked down warmly at her best friend as they walked towards the parking lot. They could have this moment, hands clasped securely together, to enjoy one another's company right now. They could be friends until Quinn had to leave and be Finn's girlfriend again. She still wasn't ready to work out the entire Finn-Rachel relationship with her entire world turned upside down. There were actually a lot of things she wasn't ready to tell Finn, he just didn't understand the way Rachel did. With Rachel it felt more like Quinn could tell her anything.

Except that wasn't quite true... Quinn sighed quietly, ignoring the way Rachel raised her head to question with her eyes. She couldn't tell Rachel everything either, not if she wanted this friendship to keep going. She had to _save_ Rachel this time, not destroy her.

''It's nothing, Rachel. Don't worry.'' She lied quietly, shaking her head.

''So many things to tell her,  
>But how to make her see,<br>The truth about our past? Impossible,  
>she'd turn away from me.''<p>

Rachel Berry didn't understand Quinn Fabray at all. Normally she could have written a several page thesis on a person's loves, likes, and motivations after having spent this much personal time with someone, with anyone, anyone except Quinn Fabray. All of Quinn's feelings were tucked away and hidden securely behind that icy, perfect, beautiful mask of a face. Rachel needed to know what was going on in Quinn's head, craved to know why things were changing so quickly between the two of them, craved to know where they were going together.

''She's holding back, she's hiding,  
>But what? I can't decide,<br>Why won't she be the Quinn I know she is?  
>The Quinn I see inside?''<p>

''And if they fall in love tonight,'' Santana muttered inches from Brittany's lips when the blonde was done using them, ''It can be assumed...''

''Her carefree days with us are over with,'' Brittany picked up on the other line, sending pleasant rumbling vibrations throughout Santana's body. The two joined together for the last line of the song.

''In short our pal is... Dooooomed!'' The two girls giggled against one another before pushing their lips back together.


	8. Chapter 6: Trouble

A/N: I don't own Glee. I am, however, the slowest updating author in the world. I swear I will finish this eventually though. (A few years maybe? It'll be a long ride.)

A/N 2: Thanks to my new Beta, LiteratureNerd. She's helped catch a lot of errors that would have gone unnoticed by me. All remaining mistakes are my fault.

A/N 3: Reviews, comments, suggestions, and concerns are all welcome in either my PM box or the review section of the story, thank you.

Chapter 6

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Saturday came all too soon for Quinn Fabray. She was aware that that wasn't normal, that most teenagers were desperate for the first weekend after spring break to come; but most teenagers didn't have Russell Fabray coming home at the end of the day. The blonde hadn't even slept the night before, instead using the time to text Rachel, in a final attempt to eke as much enjoyment out her parent's absence as she possibly could. Eventually, though, the sun had risen and Quinn had had to set the phone down and get to work.

Quinn wasn't a messy person but the work of cleaning still took most of the day. Russell's standard was perfection and, regardless of how cleanly a person lived, food was still consumed and dust still gathered. The blonde knew how to clean, though; that had been inculcated into her from an early age. Cleaning was a feminine job. She'd need to know how to tidy up after her husband when she married the star quarterback. She'd needed to learn things like cooking and sewing and cleaning so she could make the transition from perfect daughter to perfect wife perfectly.

The blonde shuddered, clutching bags of groceries tightly against her chest. She didn't want to be like her mother. Judy was just as unhappy as Quinn was, the incessant drinking was proof enough of that, but she was too 'perfect' to stand up to her husband. Judy was trapped by her own weakness. Quinn craved freedom.

That's why she was hurrying home so quickly from the supermarket. Replacing the food she had eaten the last few days was the last job on Quinn's mental list. If she got home and organized quickly then she'd be able to steal a few more hours of relaxation before her parents arrived.

The blonde groaned as she rounded the corner on her home street. Russell's car was parked in the driveway, black metal glinting mockingly in the dim light of the sunset. Quinn's pace slowed dramatically, motivation lost. There was probably a lecture on punctuality waiting for her at home, now, rather than the break she had wanted. She could practically hear her father ranting already.

"Quinn Charlotte Fabray, we don't ask a lot from you," lying bastard, "but I don't think it's unreasonable to want to see my baby girl's smiling face when I get home _and_ to find that home in the same condition I left it." Russell would ignore the fact that floors had been swept, displays had been dusted, carpets had been cleaned, and that the house was _nearly_ perfect so that he could focus on the tiny amount of food missing from the pantry. Judy would nod solemnly, too inebriated to actually pay attention, and Quinn would accept whatever punishment inevitably came.

Things only got worse as Quinn's feet slowly drug her closer to the house. She could see that the green SUV in the street was parked in front of her home; which meant that Russell had a guest over. The blonde groaned while she still could. SHe was going to have to be even more perfect than usual so her father could show off his 'Flawless American Family.'

A woman, Quinn assumed she was the owner of the green car, was actually waiting at the door. She must have only just arrived; either that or Russell was taking one of his customary afternoon walks with Judy. Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that she knew the visitor. The long brown hair and tan skin made her look like a taller Rachel. The guest turned slightly and Quinn noticed that she was holding something, no, someone in her arms. Somone tiny with blonde hair... the same color as Quinn's...

The cheerleader barely noticed the bags of groceries crashing to the ground, her heart beating so loudly it drowned out any other noise and filled her ears.

Why was she here?

Quinn only realized the other woman had turned to face her because she could suddenly see the baby, her baby, more clearly.

Why was Shelby Corcoran here?

It didn't matter that Quinn hadn't watched her grow, hadn't even seen her for almost a year. She recognized her own golden hair and golden eyes, coming closer as Shelby approached Quinn.

Why was Beth here?

''Quinn,'' Shelby's concerned voice sounded distant and hazy in the blonde's ringing ears, ''Quinn are you alright?'' The elder woman clearly didn't understand. She was worried about the wrong thing, about Quinn, when she should have been worrying about Beth.

''Shelby,'' Quinn struggled to force the word out, ignoring Shelby's question, ''why are you here?'' It got easier to speak as she stopped fighting her raging emotions and let them leak into her voice. ''You promised you were going to take her away.'' She didn't move her eyes from Beth's for a second. She didn't think she could have if she tried.

''Oh, Quinn,'' the young girl could hear the justification coming before it started. Shelby's voice sounded the same way Judy's had when she had broken her own promise, let Russell back in, ''I wish it were that simple.'' Shelby sighed, ''I _love_ New York, it was my dream for a long time, but it's a hard place to live for a single mother, especially one who won't leave their child in a day care.''

''But, anywhere else?'' Quinn asked desperately. Couldn't Shelby take her anywhere but Lima, anywhere but the black hole of a town that had crushed Quinn's dreams before they really had a chance to grow, anywhere but the town that was already working to destroy Shelby's other daughter. Beth could go anywhere else so long as Russell never got the chance to taint her.

''I have a reputation here, Quinn,'' All the blonde could hear was more and more pointless justification. It was all she could do not to smack Shelby across the face, tear Beth from her arms and run until they'd both be safe. ''Which is why I could find a job here even with my new conditions. It isn't at Carmel, apparently Vocal Adrenaline's already got some hotshot new coach, but it'll keep Beth fed and warm. Isn't that what's important?''

''No, that's not the...'' Quinn trailed off. She had finally torn her gaze from Beth's face to shake her head. There were two silhouettes rapidly approaching over Shelby's shoulder, people the blonde recognized immediately.

Russell and Judy looked just like a normal, happy, couple as they walked down the sidewalk, his arm around her, both of them laughing. They probably would have fooled anyone except their own daughter. For Quinn, their arrival just meant that she was out of time. She'd failed Beth.

"Quinn, sweetie," Russell called as he drew closer. Quinn watched him, saw his eyes flicker from her to the mess to Beth to Shelby. His gaze lingered on the woman as he continued speaking, "Would you like to introduce us to your friend?"

''Shelby Corcoran," the brunette woman turned and nodded cordially at Mr. Fabray. Quinn took the opportunity to pull herself back into a semblance of her perfect daughter persona. She didn't think it would fool her father, Shelby's real daughter had almost destroyed Quinn's mask, but that wasn't the point any more. Quinn needed to get Beth away from here as quickly as possible. The only way she, a teenager, could do that was by waiting patiently for the right moment to act. ''and this is my daughter, Beth.''

''It's nice to meet you, Shelby, and you too, Beth,'' Quinn nearly physically recoiled as her father bent over to shake Beth's hand, ''Listen, come inside and we'll get to know each other a little better. I'm sure Judy can find something,'' Russell looked down disdainfully at the ruined groceries just long enough to make his point clear, ''to make for dinner.''

''You don't need to bother yourselves over me,'' Shelby said, sounding a little bit flattered. Quinn took some bittersweet consolation in the realization that Beth scarcely registered on her father's radar. Tonight was going to be all about Shelby for Russell Fabray, about acquiring yet another woman to parade about in front of his family. Quinn could only hope that the woman who had given birth to someone as insightful as Rachel Berry wouldn't get suckered in, ''but I would love to step inside and chat a bit, at least.''

''Nonsense,'' one did not simply turn down Russell Fabray's hospitality, ''it'll be our pleasure, Shelby. Judy, go put something on the stove while I take our guest on a quick tour of the garden,'' Quinn thought she caught a flash of emotion, actual emotion, penetrate her mother's drunken haze but it was gone before it could really register. The older blonde turned, heading silently into the house. ''Quinnie dear,''

''Yes, daddy,'' the response was still instinctive.

''You can come inside when you've cleaned up your mess.'' Russell turned and, Quinn imagined, grimaced briefly when he realized that Shelby didn't have a free arm for him to possessively take. The cheerleader just stood there, watching until both adults had disappeared behind the house. Once they were out of sight Quinn finally let her face fall, let her brow wrinkle in frustration. She didn't know who she was more disgusted with: Russell, for this new blatant attempted infidelity, or Judy, for permitting it. Quinn knew the wounds this sort of betrayal left, she could still feel the emotional scars from Babygate, on both the perpetrator and the victim. She was already steeling herself to have to go through it again this year. It baffled her that her parents could violate that trust so easily.

Quinn's thoughts drifted back to a few nights ago as she started to clean, gathering fractured eggshells and the like into paper bags. She couldn't help but compare, yet again, her parents to Rachel's, to Hiram and Leroy. Even if they, people like them, gays, couldn't feel real love then at least they had loyalty. They had to. People like Quinn's father worked hard enough to destroy their little family without them betraying each other. They had to fight to try and make a safe place for them and their daughter. They had to work together.

It didn't take long to finish the job, the hardest part by far was making sure she had removed all the egg from the sidewalk in the fading light, and once the bags were safely in the trash can Quinn practically ran back to the front door. She would have rather given Beth to the Berrys, left them to turn her into one of them, than let her stay in that house. The baby's grandfather would be a worse influence than any amount of gay could ever hope to be and, besides, Rachel had turned out almost normal.

She could hear something simmering on the stove as she made her way in a controlled rush to the living room. She knew she'd be expected to take care of the food since she was here, Judy was usually too intoxicated to prepare much more than a microwave dinner. She didn't care. Beth was in the living room with Russell Fabray. Beth was in there without Quinn to protect her, without the only person who recognized the danger she was in, and no amount of veiled threats from her father was going to make Quinn leave her baby now.

Shelby was seated in an armchair facing the couch where Russell and Judy were reclining. Quinn released a tiny sigh of relief. Even if half a room of distance wasn't nearly enough at least it was a start. As expected; Russell motioned nearly imperceptibly to the kitchen when his daughter entered, eyes bulging slightly when she ignored him and moved further into the living room instead. Quinn didn't sit down though, that would have implied a level of comfort she was nowhere close to feeling. Instead she leaned over the back of another armchair, forming a triangle with her parents and Shelby.

''Quinnie-puff,'' Russell's voice was warm but Quinn could already hear the angry, threatening, undercurrent, ''we were just talking about how much Beth looks like you. That's good. It means there's a lot of Fabray blood in there.'' Quinn bit her tongue before she could make a sarcastic remark: that she sure as hell hoped not because that would make Beth a lying traitor like the rest of them. Snotty quips at her father weren't the point of this mini-rebellion. If Quinn were going to do anything out of line it had to be for Beth's benefit.

''Yes, daddy,'' Quinn said demurely, not really looking at the man. Beth had turned in Shelby's arms to observe the new source of noise and was waving, tiny hand opening and closing on itself. Quinn felt her heart break a little more as she paused, watching. Beth was the only innocent person in the room, Quinn herself and all the others had lost their chances long ago, and there was nothing more dangerous to that angelic light than her demon of a grandfather. ''Beth's a very special girl.''

''And she's so well behaved too,'' Mr. Fabray plowed ahead the second Quinn had given her 'perfect daughter' response, ''I'm impressed. I have no idea how you've already trained her so well.'' Quinn didn't miss the silent admonition to behave herself, to get back to the kitchen and back to her role, but she ignored it. Whatever Judy had left cooking could burn to ashes for all she cared.

''She's quiet now,'' Shelby agreed. Beth hadn't made a sound for the duration of the visit, ''but don't worry. We'll get her singing soon enough. With parents like Quinn and Noah my little gold star is going to have a voice that's too pretty to waste.'' Quinn took a brief second to enjoy the way her father's face twisted at the passing reference to Puck, apparently he wasn't too fond of the other half of his granddaughter's family tree. It must have been a hard day for the man; his daughter disobeying him in front of guests, evidence of Babygate showing up on his doorstep, coming home to a pantry that was one-tenth empty. Everything was falling out of the place that he, as lord and master, had assigned it. If Beth hadn't been there Quinn thought she might have actually enjoyed the situation.

''Speaking of singing,'' Shelby continued a little hastily, ''now that Quinn's joined us do you mind if I get on with my reason for being here?'' To her credit it looked like Shelby had shut Russell down hard outside. She didn't seem interested at all. In fact, she seemed more focused on Quinn than on anything else.

''Go right ahead, Miss Corcoran,'' the subtly sour way Russell pronounced the formal name seemed to confirm Quinn's suspicions. Mr Fabray must have made his move in the gardens and Shelby had to have rejected him. There was no other way to explain the tense impatience Quinn could feel filling the room. Shelby wanted out and Russell wanted her out. It was perfect. There was a chance Beth could escape without Quinn having to do anything at all.

''Thank you, Mr. Fabray.'' Quinn couldn't help but notice the way Shelby paused; eyes closed briefly and mouth working silently through a single long inhalation. She looked just like Rachel did when she was preparing for a rant. ''As I've already told Quinn, I've had the good fortune to acquire a new job here in Lima.'' the blonde was fairly certain the brunette woman had entirely forgotten the other occupants of the room in her new single-minded focus. This rant was obviously directed at, intended for, Quinn alone.

''I don't know if you're familiar with the Motta family,'' Quinn, at least, was. The daughter, Sugar, would have been lower on the social ladder than Rachel if her parents weren't filthy rich. ''but their father made me a very generous offer. Apparently his daughter was denied membership in the school's current show choir.'' That was surprising. Quinn had thought that the New Directions had an open door policy on new members. ''Mr. Motta had heard of my previous success coaching Vocal Adrenaline so, when he found out I was in town searching for employment, he approached me. he was willing to pay for the expenses of a new Glee Club at Mckinley, including a respectable salary for me, on the condition that his daughter be included.''

''Excuse me,'' Russell interjected, the ugly tone in his voice obvious now. Shelby had made a serious mistake coming in and talking to Mr. Fabray, of all people, about Glee Clubs, ''are you trying to tell me that you want to open up another one of those freak sh...''

''I'm not done, thank you,'' Shelby snapped coldly. Quinn waited patiently for the world to end or, at least, for her father to throw the woman out of his house. Nobody interrupted Russell Fabray, least of all in his own home, but nothing happened. Mr Fabray just sank quietly back into the couch, the flabbergasted look on his face slowly giving way to something more calculating. Quinn didn't like it at all.

''As I was saying,'' Shelby continued, settling back into what Quinn assumed was the prepared flow of her speech, ''Mr. Motta and I took the proposal to Principal Figgins and he, thankfully, accepted. However,'' the brunette's face twisted wryly, ''there's a problem. Sugar Motta really can't sing. I'm going to need some serious talent if I want to pull us through Sectionals, let alone Regionals or Nationals. Add that to the fact that we need eleven more members to even qualify and...'' she sighed, ''you get the point.''

''That's why I'm here Quinn. I know you can sing and I'd really rather not poach members from Mr. Schuester's group unless I have to. You're not on the New Direction's roster this year.'' Shelby's gaze locked with Quinn's and the blonde girl had to stop herself from twisting in discomfort. ''I need you.'' The teacher just kept staring at her with those eyes, Rachel's eyes. Quinn felt paralyzed. She didn't know what to say. Shelby hadn't actually asked a question but she was still very clearly waiting for a response that Quinn wasn't ready to give.

''No,'' Russell said firmly, ''absolutely not.'' Quinn felt her stomach drop. She had almost forgotten that her parents were still there, ''My daughter will not be part of one of those damned choirs ever again. Last time she ended up pregnant, unpopular, ruined. I'm not going to let the non-Christian freaks those sorts of groups attract get a second chance to drag her down.''

''Mr. Fabray,'' Shelby's exasperation finally leaked into her voice, ''don't you think that this should be Quinn's own decision? It's just an extracurricular activity. Excuse me for saying so but your generalization is incredibly offensive. Most of the people I've met in my career have been...''

''Don't bother lying to me, Miss Corcoran,'' it was Russell's turn to interrupt now, ''I've seen the people in that other pathetic group; Puckerman, Hummel, Berry,'' Quinn's father spit the last name with an extra measure of venom, ''subversive delinquents, every last one of them. Why in the hell would the rejects who join up with you be any different, especially when they can't even make it in with the others? I won't have my daughter in that sort of environment.'' Russell's eyes narrowed and Quinn's blood went cold. She knew that look. It was the same one she wore when she was about to go in for the kill.

''Besides, Miss Corcoran,'' Mr. Fabray's voice was cold, mocking, ''Who are you to give advice on how to raise a child? Do you really think that your failed attempt to reconnect with your _real_ daughter and nine months watching someone else's fuck-up qualify _you_ to counsel _me_?'' Watching Shelby's face fall Quinn felt guilt start to gnaw at her. Maybe her mother hadn't needed to know every detail of the Babygate situation. ''Forget it.''

It was the single most uncomfortable silence Quinn had ever experienced. Russell was leering triumphantly at the brunette woman. Shelby looked shocked, mouth hanging slightly open without response. Quinn herself certainly couldn't think of anything to say.

''Oh, is it my turn to talk now?'' Every head in the room slowly turned to stare at Judy Fabray. Quinn's jaw dropped, Shelby looked a little bit more confused, Beth waved.

Russell looked terrified.

''Alright then, here's what I think,'' Judy leaned forward unsteadily, emboldened by the silence, ''I think that, sometimes, when we love people very much we have to let them make their own decisions.'' the mature blonde took a pause but she still seemed relatively lucid. Quinn realized that, besides the one glass, she hadn't actually seen her mother drinking that night. ''Even... even if we might not agree with the choices those people might be making.'' Judy was staring directly at Russell. It was odd. Quinn didn't think she'd ever heard the woman make a directly pointed comment, certainly not at her husband.

''Judy,'' Russell's eyes were still terrified but his voice turned smooth, appeasing. Quinn waited for her mother's bizarre resolve to just melt away, ''I'm just trying to...''

''No, no Russell,'' Quinn didn't understand what was going on. It was like Shelby had arrived and the rules that governed the Fabray household had vanished. The cheerleader would have bet on gravity failing before Judy talking back to Mr. Fabray, ''Charlie's a big girl now, we have to let her loose... and besides,'' Mrs. Fabray chuckled, ''it's a different group. She won't even be there.'' she trailed off as Quinn tried to puzzle out exactly what her mother could have meant by the last comment. It didn't make any sense either. _Who_ wasn't going to be _where_? Quinn, if she joined, would certainly have to be in the group she joined. Nobody else seemed to be related to the conversation...

She hadn't even noticed Shelby standing up and walking over to place a hand on her shoulder until the older woman blocked her field of vision. ''Quinn, I'm pretty sure I've worn out my welcome. Would you mind accompanying me to the door?'' Quinn just stood wordlessly, following behind the coach. This was exactly what she had wanted, why on earth would she object? Russell could punish her however he wanted when she came back, no amount of Shelby and Judy in the world make him ok with everything that had happened that day, she still didn't care. She was going to make sure Beth got out.

The blonde trailed slowly after Shelby, opening the door when they finally reached it. The Glee coach turned, locking eyes with Quinn one more time. ''Quinn, look...'' she actually seemed a bit embarassed by everything that had gone down in the living room, ''it was wrong of me to spring all of that on you just now. I didn't understand your situation,'' That much was obvious. Hardly anybody ever got through to the Fabray family's ugly underbelly, ''but, after what your mom said, I would like to re-offer you a spot in the Trouble Tones.'' Quinn raised an eyebrow, ''That's what I want to call the club. You don't have to decide right now, I can see why you'd want to think it through now, but I'd like an answer by Tuesday if it's possible. That's when the official tryouts will be.'' Shelby smiled warmly at Quinn.

''So will you at least think about it? If not for me then for her?'' Quinn's breath caught, that wasn't fair at all. Shelby couldn't use Beth against her like that. The older woman had no idea what was best for the younger girl, that much was obvious from the fact that she was there at all. Quinn knew. Quinn knew what was good for Beth.

So... maybe the best thing to do would be to join. That was the only vway Quinn could see herself getting to interact with her child more. Maybe she could help guide Beth from the sidelines. Maybe she could, somehow, save the younger girl from her own family, from Lima and a life in obscurity. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Quinn cleared her mind, Shelby was giving her a few days to make her decision.

''Yes, I mean... I'll think about it.'' Shelby smiled as Quinn spoke, finally stepping through the door.

''Thank you Quinn. It'll mean a lot to us.'' The brunette woman leaned over slightly to look at the baby, ''Say goodbye to auntie Quinn, Beth.'' The tiny girl waved at Quinn one more time, continuing the action as Shelby turned to make her way to the car.

''Bye bye, Angel,'' Quinn said sadly, slowly waving back.


	9. Interlude 2: Texts

A/N: I don't own Glee. I will never own Glee. I will always update slowly.

A/N 2: When I had the idea for the Interludes I had a bit of an idea explosion. I'm going to try to limit them to one between each chapter or less though and I'll try to keep them relevant to the plot.

A/N 3: I'd like to express appreciation to the fantastic author Dramatricks for being another source of inspiration for me. (Read: I'm blatantly stealing her ideas.) She's an excellent author and I demand that you go and read all of her Faberry stories!

A/N 4: Reviews are greatly greatly appreciated. I'm also open to suggestions for songs/scenes/whatever. Just because I've planned things out doesn't mean I can't change things up/ cram more in.

A/N 5: Like I said in the previous interlude, these let me play around a bit with the format. For example: This Interlude is a text conversation without a real main character. It's just a log. :)

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Interlude 6.5: Texts

R: What's your favorite flavor of slushie?

Q: That's a random question.

R: My apologies. As you know, I'm fairly new to the rules of texting ettiquette so I may still be lacking on some of the finer details. Here, let me try again.

R: What's up?

Q: XD That doesn't sound like you at all.

R: Are you going to answer the question though?

Q: Maybe...

R: Quinn! I'm actually trying to communicate here and you're just being... Frustrating! Grrr...

Q: Did you just growl at me?

R: Yes. Grrr...

Q: XD

R: Grrr...

Q: ...

R: Grrr...

Q: Rachel...

R: Grrr...

Q: Fine! I'm sorry for being frustrating... God...

R: I forgive you. Aren't you glad we worked this out? O

Q: Ugh. I thought I was supposed to be the frustrating one here...

R: What was that?

Q: Nothing! O

Q: My favorite slushie flavor is cherry.

R: Ha! I knew it!

Q: Oh really? How?

R: That's the flavor that you always used to hit me with.

Q: ...

Q: Rachel, I'm sorry.

R: No, Quinn, don't apologize. That was tactless of me, I'm sorry for bringing it up. You've apologized. I've forgiven you. It's in the past and I should have left it there. We're friends now.

Q: O

R: O

R: So, on what I hope is a slightly more tactful note, What are you doing this fine Sunday afternoon?

Q: Sitting in church bored. You?

R: Watching Phantom of the Opera, again, with a tub of vegan ice-cream. It's one of my favorites. Phantom, that is, not the ice-cream. Though I, like most people, do love ice-cream from time to time as well.

Q: I wasn't aware you could rant in text form, haha, but I think you win the 'fun contest' today.

R: I agree but, now I'm curious, are you on bad terms with your faith?

Q: Not exactly... I believe in God and all. Why do you care? Aren't you Jewish?

R: Yes but I'm also your friend, Quinn. I just want to get to know you better.

Q: You're wrong.

R: What?

Q: We're not friends.

R: What! Quinn! No! nonono.

R: I'm Sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry for it!

Q: We're Best Friends.

R: ...

R: Quinn Fabray, that was mean...

R: But I'll forgive you anyway, since we're capital letter Best Friends. :D (That's a smiley, right?)

Q: I'm sorry, Rach. I couldn't help it. XD (Yes it is. So is that)

R: As charming as it is that you finally think I merit a non-offensive nickname can I ask you to please not use that one?

Q: Sure. Can I ask why?

R: That was Finn's nickname for me... It just feels a little strange, coming from you. You can call me Rae instead, if you'd still like to use a nickname of course.

Q: Alright, Rae. :) O

R: O Back to the matter at hand, I will tolerate no further sweet interruptions from you Miss Fabray; if you are on good terms with your faith then why are you bored right now.

Q: My father's speaking.

R: Oh, is he the pastor?

Q: No. The Reverend invited him up to give a guest sermon. It happens every other month or so.

R: Hmmm... What is he talking about?

Q: I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear that, Rae.

R: Of course I do, Quinn. If I want to understand you better then I have to understand the influences that shaped you. That applies even if I, personally, might find them distasteful.

Q: You sure?

R: Positive.

Q: Okay... He's giving a speech about, 'The Decline of Traditional Morality and Its Effect on the Youth of Lima, Ohio.' Or, at least, that was the working title when he rehearsed it to me and my mother this morning.

R: ... I see...

Q: He's mentioned your fathers quite a few times... and you once...

R: And... What do you think about all of this, Quinn?

Q: I'm honestly not sure... I think I'd rather not talk about it.

R: You know we'll have to eventually, right?

Q: Yes, just... Not right now?

R: Okay...

R: Did you hear the news?

Q: Vague, could have several possible answers, care to clarify? ;) (That one's a wink.)

R: About Noah?

Q: Puck?

R: Yes, Noah.

Q: No, I don't think I have.

R: I'm not privy to all the details but it sounds like he got thrown into Juvenile Detention for a month.

Q: Ouch.

R: and, honestly, I'm a bit scared for the Glee Club...

Q: You don't need to be scared, Rae, You and I both know you've got an _amazing_voice.

R: Yes, Quinn, thank you. I know. That won't matter though if we don't have enough people to qualify when Sectionals roll around. I, at the very least need extra bodies behind me...

Q: I'm sorry, Rae... I wish there was something I could do.

R: There is... You could come back...

Q: Rachel, I...

Q: I have to go... My dad's finishing up and... He wouldn't like it if he sees me texting you... Bye until later, Rae.

Q: O

R: Bye... O


	10. Chapter 7: Nova

A/N 1: I own nothing, my updates take forever. Do not call Quinn's phone number.

A/N 2: I apologize for any of the new characters who are OOC. I don't have a ton of experience with them

A/N 3: Comments, reviews, suggestions, whatever, are all welcome.

Chapter 7

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

''You'll wait your turn just like everybody else, little missy,'' the new football coach grunted back at Quinn Fabray. The bonde cheerleader was following just behind her, trying in vain to see over the woman's massive shoulders. They, along with a train of other eager students, were heading for the announcement board. A spot in the center of the board, just underneath a flyer advertising auditions for the Trouble Tones later that afternoon, was empty, waiting for the sheet of paper in the coach's hands.

Football tryouts had finally finished.

''Yeesh, teenagers these days think they've got the world by the teats,'' Quinn was the first to fill the considerable vacuum the coach left after pegging the roster to the board. Her eyes flew down the paper to the first listing, the most important one, the only one that she cared about, and her heart sank.

Quarterback: Samuel Evans

That was it then. The months of work spent wooing Finn had slipped down the drain in the time it took to print a single page. Quinn didn't even bother glancing at the second-string listing; nobody cared about the backup and she, especially, had to focus on the new boy. The name sounded familiar but she couldn't quite place where she had heard it before. She had to remember. Anything could give her a little extra advantage over the hordes of other girls who would doubtlessly swarm the new quarterback

''Excuse me,'' a tall blonde boy jostled his way past Quinn to stand in front of the board, ''coming through.'' The Cheerio rounded on him, smirk firmly set on her face. She didn't know who he was but he would know who she was soon enough. She'd be damned before she let this announcement change her place on the social ladder.

''Yes!'' the boy crowed, jumping backwards and pumping his fists in the air. Quinn managed to keep the smirk on her face as suspicion crept into her brain.

''Name?'' she demanded flatly, mentally preparing two separate plans. If he was who she expected she was going to need to play a lot nicer than she had originally thought.

''Me?'' Quinn nodded as the blonde boy turned, a gigantic smile on his face, ''The name's Sam, Sam Evans.'' The shortened form of the name didn't just confirm the cheerleader's hunch; it jogged her memory as well. Sam was the name of the boy Kurt had been jabbering about non-stop throughout the summer but... There was no way this could be the same boy. Kurt's Sam had been 'nearly as obviously gay as I am.' This Sam certainly didn't look the part and, besides, the team had barely tolerated Kurt as Kicker; they'd go into open rebellion if someone like him became QB. ''And I'll be your new quarterback.''

''So, Sam lowered his voice, movong closer to Quinn. The blonde girl arranged her face into a more agreeable smile. God or Karma or Luck had finally cut her a break and there was no way she was going to waste it. If she played her cards right there was a chance she could take Sam off the market before anyone else got the chance to try, ''what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a town like this?''

Quinn just stared, prepared response lost in confusion. Sam didn't sound like he was using the line seriously, in fact he really just looked playful. It sounded like he was quoting something but quinn couldn't figure out what or, for that matter, why.

''Ah, don't know that one?'' Sam's voice slowly returned to normal, ''Figures. I've got rotten luck.'' He really didn't look or sound that upset. The goofy grin, at least, had found its way back onto his face. Quinn didn't understand. The blonde boy didn't fit in to any of the 'roles' she had familiarized herself with over the years. She needed to categorize him, needed to so she could know how he thought, so she could know how to control him.

And she didn't have time.

The old football team, Finn at their head rounded the hallway corner, clearly headed for the place where Quinn and Sam were standing. A twinge of panic at seeing the boy she was about to betray spurred the cheerleader into action.

''Follow me.'' she demanded with all the authority she could muster. She turned and pushed through the crowd, relying on years as a Cheerio and years more as a Fabray to give her the weight she needed to make Sam follow her. She ducked into the unused Astronomy classroom nearby, shutting the door as soon as a slightly bewildered Sam made his way through. Hopefully that would keep Finn, as well as anybody else, from discovering them. Quinn needed time to figure out what made this boy tick. He walked to the center of the classroom, leaning backwards against a table as he spoke.

''Just so you know, I don't do this sort of thing.'' The playfullness in Sam's voice had vanished.

''What are you talking about?'' Some of Quinn's frustration leaked into her voice. She had hoped that Sam would be a little bit easier to understand when they weren't surrounded by other people.

''The whole, 'Quickie in a classroom with a girl I just met' thing.'' Quinn's mouth fell open slightly. Did Sam really think she was offering him sex? ''I don't know how the things were with the last Quarterback but I've got morals, sorry.'' He pushed off the table and started walking.

''I wasn't offering that!'' Quinn blurted, composure gone. She couldn't just let Sam walk out on her. She was going to need him. She shifted slightly to put herself between Sam and the door as he came to a stop again.

''I'm not stupid, you know,'' the blonde boy said a little sadly, ''I mean, I'm no genius either, but I saw the way you lit up out there when you realized who I was and I can put two and two together.'' Quinn could only shake her head, words entirely failing her. This was a disaster. ''So, if that's not what you wanted then why'd you pull me in here?''

''Look, Sam,'' the blonde girl spoke slowly, keeping control of herself now, ''I just wanted to help you. You were the one who started flirting with me.'' She covered her lie with the admonishment. The situation needed to be back in her hands.

''That's true,'' Sam chuckled quietly and Quinn waited as he lapsed into concentration, taking the opportunity to more thoroughly study the boy. She was pretty sure he wasn't leaving now. He was tall, not as absurdly tall as Finn but still taller than Quinn,, with an absurd, obviously-bleached, Bieber haircut. He looked strong, and his new position on the football team pretty much confirmed that, but what impressed Quinn the most about the blonde-haired blue-eyed boy was the way he held himself. The only other students Quinn had seen who had that kind of self-confidence were Puck and Rachel and, while Sam neither oozed sleaze like puck nor possessed Rachel's nigh-hypnotic intensity, he radiated a kind of playful innocence.

''Can we start over?'' Quinn quirked an eyebrow at the boy's question, silently surprised. She had been thinking that she'd dug herself into a pit and here Sam was giving her a ladder. ''it shouldn't be too hard, considering that I don't even know your name, pretty lady,'' Quinn's smile, unbidden, crept it's way back onto her face. Sam's voice didn't have any of the crude suggestivity that Puck's would have and it was far more adorable than Finn's dopey swetness. Sam's friendliness reminded her of a puppy, eager to please. That was something she could use.

''I'll even startm if that helps anything,' Sam ventured, ''and I'll try to be less of a cocky ass while I'm doing it.'' Quinn nodded, glad that the puzzle piece that was Sam Evans was starting to fall into place. She didn't think she could handle another person that stubbornly refused to be defined, Rachel was confusing enough without any outside help. ''Alright, I'm Samuel Christopher Evans. it turns out that I'm the new Quarterback and, as you may have noticed, I don't really know what I'm doing.'' He leaned forward slightly, proffering his hand, ''Nice to meet you.''

''Quinn Charlotte Fabray,'' she said, moving forward, ''I'm captain of the Cheerios.'' Sam stared, confused. That meant he had to be pretty new. Everyone knew who the Cheerios were. ''I'm captain of the cheerleading squad here at Mckinley.'' It was Sam's turn to light up as Quinn explained and he realized exactly who she was. The new expression settling on his face was the last thing she needed to figure him out. She understood Sam Evans now.

It was really embarassingly simple, now that she realized it. He was just trying to play the same game she, and every other person at the school, was playing. He just wasn't very good at it yet. It wasn't his own fault. He simply didn't have Quinn's years of experience navigating Mckinley's treacherous political waters. It was actually almost cruel. The poor boy had been catapulted into the precarious equivalent of Quinn's own position without a chance to learn what would be expected of him. On his own he would get eaten alive.

So, in the end, he was really lucky that Quinn was there to snatch him up.

''And believe me when I say that I can help you.'' The blonde continued, reaching out to firmly shake Sam's hand She couldn't help but compare it to Rachel's hand as the strange fingers wrapped around her palm. Sam's fingers were rougher, heavier, pressed in ways and in places that Rachel's didn't. After spending so much time hand-in-hand with the other girl holding somebody else's felt odd, even for just a handshake. So she didn't draw it out, dropping the boy's hand quickly. She couldn't afford to distract herself by getting lost in thoughts of the other girl. Sam was important right now. She'd have plenty of time for her best friend later. They even shared their first class period together.

''I'm going to be straight with you,'' she said, getting back on track. If he was really playing the same game as she was then he was probably just as frustrated as her as well, maybe more. They had both been measuring one another, sizing each other up and waiting for a mistake. He'd probably appreciate a little directness. ''You're pretty obviously new here and things work dofferently at McKinley than wherever you came from, I guarantee it. The random quotes and air-guitar solos aren't going to fly here, not even as Quarterback.'' She spoke quietly, slowly moving closer to Sam as she did so, ''You have to watch yourself one hundred percent of the time. One wrong step could land you on the bottom and, believe me,'' she added bitterly, ''the bottom here is harsh.'' Sam just nodded thoughtfully and she continued.

''But you don't have to do it alone, Sam,'' Quinn held Sam's gaze with her own, looking upwards into light blue eyes. it was funny, she realized, that she felt so emotionally cold in this moment. They were inches apart, boy and girl, staring into one another's eyes, and she had never felt more in control of herself. She was happy, happy that things were back on track, but there was no tension between them for her. There was certainly nothing like the meltdown Rachel always seemed to cause building, ''You can let someone help you; someone with experience, who's already figured out how to stay on top, you can let _me _help you. I'll teach you what you need to know. We can balance each other out, lift each other higher.'' She held herself just away from Sam's face, so close that she could heel his breath against her cheeks now.

''Sam,'' she whispered throatily, searching his eyes for any sign that she'd read him incorrectly, ''let me help you...'' the boy slowly started leaning in, closing the tiny gap that remained between the two of them.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIINNNNNG!

The five minute warning bell clanged and Quinn jumped, shattering the quiet as her head smacked noisily into Sam's. they stumbled apart blearily, rubbing their foreheads. Sam made his way to the door, opening the room to the clamor of the hallway, before stopping, flipping a phone from his pocket.

''Look, I... I thank you for your offer, Quinn, and I'm not saying no but... I'm going to need some time to think about it. We should definitely stay in touch. You have a phone number?'' Quinn nodded. She wasn't going to put up a fight right then. There wasn't time and, besides, he had almost kissed her. She was pretty sure that she had him.

''Two four seven- two four six seven,'' she said as he punched the numbers into his phone. he kept typing for a moment before looking up.

''Alright , now you should have mine too. We've got to get to class though, I'll see you around.'' Sam flashed a peace sign as he passed through the open door. Quinn stayed, fishing her own phone from her bra-pocket. She had had to put the blasted thing on silence without so much as the vibration on. Rachel still wouldn't stop tecting her and, at that point, Quinn didn't really want her to. it was still strange, though, having a near constant buzz against her heart. She flicked the phone open, brushing the special inbox she had made to receive Rachel's texts aside, to find that she did indeed have a new text from an unknown number.

-Hey, it's Sam. Have fun in class, pretty lady, and may the force be with you.- Quinn entered the contact into her phone as she rolled her eyes. She knew that quote. The poor boy was hopeless. Between rehabilitating Rachel and training Sam she was going to have her hands full. She turned her attention to Rachel's inbox, flicking through and replying to each of the texts in turn. She didn't want the other girl to think she was ignoring her. She just didn't have all the time she would have liked to talk. The blonde passed into the hallway, absorbed in her phone, and before long she arrived in the Spanish classroon, taking the seat next to Rachel.

''Quinn,'' Rachel hissed as the bell rang and Mr. Schuester valiantly failed to get the class' attention, ''you were almost late, what were you thinking? I actually had to fend off several would-be sycophants in order to save you a seat nect to me.'' Quinn could hear a thrilled undertone in Rachel's voice, joy that people actually wanted to sit next to her and that she had someone to save a seat for. She relaxed, content to just listen to Rachel and watch the way her lips formed the words. Rachel didn't need to see her mask and nobody else would sare attack both co-captains of the Cheerios, not while they were together, ''and you can't lose youre four-point-oh. I won't allow it.''

''Rachel,'' Quinn chuckled, ''We're in Spanish class. I'll be fine.'' She was pretty sure she actually knew more Spanish than Mr. Schuester. The brunette opened her mouth, probably to protest, and Quinn cut her off, ''Do you know how many times I've missed a question in this class?'' The answer was zero. Quinn was actually almost-fluent. Years off, if not friendshipm productive rivalry with Santana Lopez carried a few benefits with them.

''No but, Quinn, as much confidence as I have in you obvious intelligence that really isn't the point.'' Rachel spoke softly but quickly and, as their gazes met, the blonde could feel herself melting into those chocolate eyes. ''Attendance is also an important part of our grade and, if yours were to take a hit because of it, now that you've quit Glee I'm not sure that you'd have the extracurriculars necessary to make up for the drop on your college applications. I'm worried about you.'' The last four words hit Quinn like a ton of bricks. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had told her that. She certainly couldn't remember the last time she had believed it. A lump formed in the back of her throat and tears started to swim in her eyes but she helf them back. She held them back because she didn't wan't Rachel to worry even more.

''What do you mean?'' Quinn choked out. This, keeping her composure, was the hard part about being friends with Rachel. if she tried to hide behind the mask the brunette was so perceptively piercing that she forced Quinn out into the open and, without the protective distance of her mask, everything felt raw, real, terrifying. She hated opening up further, hated letting Rachel see a little deeper into the mess that was Quinn Fabray.

''What I mean, Quinn Fabray,'' Rachel said, taking the hand that hung limply by the side of the blonde's desk,'' Is that we spend an awful lot of time talking about me, how talented _I_ am, how much bigger than Lima _I_ am, how _I'm_ going to Broadway. Me, me, me,'' Quinn hadn't even noticed there was anything to wash away but, as Rachel's fingers quietly slipped into place between her own, she felt the memory of Sam's clenching grip just dissolve. ''But you're no more of a Lima Loser than I am. I know that you're special too, Quinn, and I'd hate to see you get stuck here.''

The knot in Quinn's throat grew, blocking off her words entirely. That was exactly what she was settling for. Her father had a chokehold on her entire life. She was going to graduate, marry the quarterback, and be the perfect shining jewel in her father's crown while Rachel escaped, found freedom, and she wouldn't even do anything about it. She had been working to lock herself into that path just minutes ago. She didn't know what she could do. She wasn't even ready to talk to anyone. She wasn't ready to let anyone hear that vulnerable part of her, to give away that sort of control.

But Rachel was ready to listen. Rachel was sitting there patiently, holding Quinn's hand, gazing steadily into her eyes. Rachel just wanted to help her and Quinn was too selfish to even let her do that. Rachel deserved better. Besides, if Quinn didn't tell her then she'd probably just end up figuring out on her own anyway.

''The thing is, Rae,'' Quinn forced the sentence out through gritted teeth. She still wasn't ready to spill all of her secrets but she could give Rachel this one. ''it's not entirely my own choice...'' Rachel's eyes grew wide as she slowly realized that the blonde wan't just talking about grade-point-averages. She didn't respond straight away though, visibly calming herself with several deep breaths before speaking.

''Than who's choice is it, Quinn?'' Rachel's hand tightened comfortingly around Quinn's. It sounded like she was holding herself back for Quinn's sake.

''My father,'' Quinn admitted miserably. The other girl nodded understandingly and Quinn wished they weren't in a crowded room. This would have been so much easier if she could only collapse fully on to the other girl without people getting the wrong idea. She wanted a hug, wanted to feel physical evidence of Rachel supporting her, ''maybe God...'' Rachel kept nodding, eyes bright.

''Your father,'' Rachel ventured, ''from what I've heard, doesn't deserve to have you as a daughter.'' the brunette smiled her smile up at Quinn and the taller girl's breath caught, ''and, as far as God is concerned, it's been my experience that nowadays he's pretty happy letting us make our own choices. I, at least, can't remember the last time anybody in my family was smitten with leprosy for their preferences.'' Quinn nodded, unable to shake the other girl's gaze. Rachel was right; of course Quinn could do things that Russell didn't approve of. Hadn't Shelby just demonstrated that three days before? Rachel was simply the only person capable of cutting through all Quinn's bullshit and getting to her, getting to the truth. Quinn could be Rachel's friend, she could build an actual relationship with Beth, she could...

She could join the Trouble Tones. Quinn would have loved to re-join the New Directions but, as long as Shelby had Beth, there was really no contest. A grateful smile spread across her face. She couldn't remember how she had ever functioned as Rachel's enemy. She just had to arrange a few things now. The Trouble Tones tryours were going to interfere with Cheerios practice.

''Rachel,'' Quinn sniffled away the remnant of the threatening tears, ''could I ask you a favor?''

''Yes!'' Rachel responded immediately, stunning Quinn with her enthusiasm. ''Absolutely. Anything, anything'' she repeated a little more quietly.

''It's really more two favors,'' Rachel leaned in, eagerly nodding. Quinn couldn't imagine what she was expecting, ''I'm not going to be able to be at practice after school today, so you're going to have to keep an eye on Santana for me.'' The blonde wouldn't have put it past the Latina to try something while she wasn't being watched, ''If she doesn't behave herself let me know and, I promise, I'll take care of her.'' Rachel blinked twice, animation disappearing momentarily.

''Alright, I can do that,'' the brunette rushed through the words, ''I've always been able to handle her in Glee. It shouldn't be a problem.'' Quinn wasn't sure about that, Santana was significantly more at home on the squad than in the choir room, but there wasn't anything more she could do, '' was the other thing you wanted to ask m, Quinn?'' The tiny girl tugged her lip between her teeth as she stammered. She seemed nervous now, more than anything..

''It's nothing huge. You're just going to also have to let Coach Sylvester know that I won't be there.'' Quinn's absence wouldn't be that big of a deal; she knew every stunt, every foramtion, every routine by heart.

''Oh...'' Rachel blushed intensely, ''Oh,'' she repeated, turning to stare down at her desk, ''I just thought...'' their hands were still linked together but the intense connection that they had had just seconds earlier had fled. ''Never mind, it wasn't important.'' she sighed and Quinn's mind boggled. What could be so embarassing that Rachel couldn't even tell her best friend?

''What did you think, Rae?'' Quinn asked quietly, trying to convey that she cared, was concerned, through the handhold.

''Like I said, Quinn'' the diva mumbled rapidly, staring steadfastly down at the wooden grain of her desk, ''that isn't important. What's important is what _you_ want,'' Rachel's voice was laced with a second meaning that Quinn couldn't even begin to comprehend, ''so I'll talk to Sue for you. That's all there is to it.'' She withdrew her hand, placing it on the table before her as Quinn tried to figure out what had just gone wrong. Rachel was plainly upset with her but she couldn't understand why. She had thought that letting the other girl in on the first of her secrets would make things better, not worse. Maybe she had misjudged Rachel yet again, maybe she wasn't ready to take on the extra weight of Quinn's fears.

She was going to have to try and be more careful. it wasn't going to be easy, since self-control and Rachel's presence seemed to mic like oil and water for Quinn, but she could try. She was just glad that she had started with a relatively small secret. If this had been the aftermath of letting Rachel in on her family troubles then she could only imagine the fallout if the tiny girl were to discover Sue's plan. the blonde chanced a brief glance over at Rachel, who still had her eyes locked on he desk, and decided that an apology was in order. She snagged her phone from where she had left it lying on the table, directing a short message to 'Rachel 3.'

-I'm really sorry for upsetting you, Rae. I didn't mean to.O'' Quinn watched Rachel carefully as the brunette flipped her phone from her pocket. A faint smile returned to Rachel's lips as she read the message, fingers flying inhumanly quickly across the the keyboard in response.

-It wan't your fault, Quinn. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. O. We've got to pay attention to the teacher now though. We'll talk later, I promise. I've just got some things to think about.- Rachel slipped her phone back into her pocket and Quinn did the same. She wasn't going to force the other girl to interact with her. She kept glancing over though, hoping without satisfation that by 'later' Rachel had meant a matter of minutes. Despite what she had said about listening to the teacher Rachel hadn't moved her eyes from the desk, lips moving quietly as she talked over whatever doubt she had with herself.

Rachel disappeared into the crowd as soon as class had finished. Quinn didn't have so much as a chance to say a word before she completely lost track of the other girl. The rest of the school day seemed to pass in eerie silence as well. Despite the normal hustle and bustle of the student body the emptyness of Rachel's inbox made Quinn feel as though she had been left alone, abandoned.

It was at the end of the day, walking towards the theatre, that Quinn sent what must have been her fortieth text pleading for a response to the other girl. She was well aware of the fact that the two of them hadn't even been friends for an entire week, that the way she was acting was hardly normal, but compared to the twinging loneliness that didn't seem to matter. In Rachel she had found a safe haven, a place where she could just be Quinn and start trying to puzzle out exactly what being Quinn meant, and she was terrified that she might have ruined that. It had come so quickly, appearing almost the moment she tried being nice to Rachel. She didn't want it to vanish in a flash as well.

There wasn't even a point to texting the brunette right then. Cheerios practice had already started and, Quinn knew from experience, Coach Sylvester would kill anyone who so much as glanced at their phone during practice time. She just couldn't help herself. She had to make things right with Rachel. She fired off yet another useless meddage as she passed through the large double-doors of the theatre. Bickering voices drifted up to her from the bottom of the ramp as she entered, very familiar bickering voices.

''What I am 'doing here,' Mercedes,'' Kurt, as usual, sounded on the verge of exasperation with his friend. The waifish boy and black girl were standing close together off to the side of the stage, arguing loudly in the near-empty room, ''Is hoping that the stigma that I have been pegged woth as a member of the New Directions will lessen somewhat if I place my allegiance elsewhere. Karofsky and his goons have gotten absolutely vivious now that no one's holding them back. It's not just bullying anymore. I think he's got some kind of personal vendetta.'' The boy shuddered and Quinn sympathized. Kurt was one of the few people who could rival Rachel in slushie experience. ''What are you doing here?''

''I'm sick of the Rachel Berry Show they've got going on over there,'' Kurt nodded sympathetically and Quinn rolled her eyes as she started down the ramp. She supposed that Mercedes had a point, Rachel did get the majority of the staring roles. She also had a tendency to harp on that point to anyone listening, ''I deserve my chance to shine too and if you think I'm playing second fiddle to you or anybody else now then you've got another thing coming.'' Who knew, maybe the Trouble Tones would be good for the diva. Quinn certainly wasn't going to compete with her. She knew that she had a voice better suited to background vocals. ''Alright, new question,'' Mercedes had turned to face Quinn, ''What is she doing here? Don't you have a cereal meeting to be at, Miss Cheerio?'' Quinn finished making her way down the ramp, drawing close to the other two students.

''Good to see you too, Mercedes,'' Quinn said coolly, jusging by the expressions on Kurt and Mercedes' faces the friendship they had developed the past year was well and thoroughly dead, ''being captain of something comes with its perks.'' Quinn wasn't going to try and antagonize them any further, not if they were going to be part of the same group yet again.

''Alright then, as captain can I tell all of you to shut up?'' Quinn glanced over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed Sugar Motta curled up in one of the theatre chairs, ''I really don't care who ends up as backup singer number one.'' Mercedes and Kurt both turned to stare incredulously at the tiny girl as well. ''What? Did you all forget that this is my club or did you just not know?''

''Excuse me,'' Quinn jumped. She hadn't noticed Shelby enter the room either. The mature woman was standing in the doorway, Beth in one arm and a portable crib in the other, ''your father may be paying the bills but, make no mistake about it, this is my show choir and you, Miss Motta, have a long way to go before you're ready to sing lead on anything.'' Shelby's voice was firm, Quinn admired that. Mr. Schue would have been sputtering and tripping over himself by then.

''My father,'' the tiny girl started indignantly, rising from her seat.

''Is well aware of your capabilities, Sugar, and actually asked me not to give you any preferential treatment beyond letting you in. You two,'' she said, shifitng focus to the students tanding behind QUinn, ''don't need to worry about 'getting your chance to shine.' If you deserve it you'll sing, simple as that. And Quinn is here, Miss Jones, because I invited her to be here. Quinn,'' Shelby gestured vaguely to the contents of her arms, ''would you mind helping me with these?''

As soon as Quinn realized what Shelby was asking she practically sprinted up the steps, leaving Kurt and Mercedes to chorus, 'Oh,' in understanding behind her. The teacher hesitated for just a moment, motioning forward slightly with the crib, before answering Quinn's silent prayer and handing Beth to the cheerleader. The rush of transcendent euphoria as Quinn cradled the baby, cradled _her_ baby, made her head swim and her knees go weak. Beth rached out as the two of them followed behind Shelby; grasping at Quinn's cheeks, lips, nose; getting to know a stranger who shouldn't have been strange at all. Then, far far too quickly, Quinn was placing Beth into the unfolded crib, moving dutifully to stand in front of Shelby, watching as her baby waved goodbye to her. She knew that she was hooked now. Shelby had her for as long as she wanted. Quinn would do anything for another chance to hold that little girl.

''It looks like this is everyone we're going to get today,'' Shelby announced, looking at the four students lined up before her, ''That's ok. More will come _if,'' _she paused, ''we can work together. Nobody's going to want to join up if we're at each other's throats all the time. A show choir requires unity. You have to sing together, dance together, be together and if you can't then, I'm sorry, but your performances are going to be terrible.'' oddly enough, the building lecture made Quinn feel more at home. it reminded her of the smooth discipline of the Cheerios. ''I'm not going to promise you that I'll be 'fair.' We're not going to take turns singing solos when competitions roll around, but I promise you that I'll always do what's best for the Trouble Tones. So, if you don't get that big solo you wanted don't get bitter. Get better. Be what's best for theclub and next time it'll be you up on the stage singing lead.'' The divas both smiled, apparently convinced that they were what was best for the club.

''If you stick with me,'' the coach continued, ''follow my lead, and trust me, you'll see the day when the students of this school would kill themselves for a chance to join us. So, what do you say?'' Shelby stuck her hand out, palm down, and Quinn recognized the gesture, ''Who's in?''

''I am,'' The blonde said immediately, placing her hand on Shelby's. There wasn't even a question anymore. She could do things Russell disapproaved of, he could hardly ruin her life any more than he was already planning to, and she'd do anything for Beth. Quinn would stay with the Trouble Tones as long as they existed.

''Me too,'' Kurt and Mercedes said at the same time, glancing over at each other as they added their hands to the pile. Everybody looked over to Sugar, who rolled her eyes and sighed obnoxiously.

''Fine,'' She reluctantly placed her hand atop all the others, ''I guess it'll be better than sitting alone at home all day.''

''Excellent,'' Shelby's eyes sparkled with excitement, ''You're all in, beggars can't be choosers. I'm going to be avaliable all day, every day, in order to get you where you're going to need to be. You want to practice scales at three-o-clock in the morning? Call me up and I'm there. For now, though, we're just going to do exercises. I have to hear how you sound together. Ready?'' Shelby tensed, preparing to flip the hands in the air as the Trouble Tones nodded.

''Lets Go!''


	11. Interlude 3: Not That Girl

A/N 1: I own neither Glee nor the song in this chapter. The song is 'Not That Girl' from the musical Wicked.

A/N 2: Updates are probably still going to be slow, look for the next one in 3-4 weeks. XD I'm slowing down a bit because, on second pass, my last chapter had WAY too many typos in it. I apologize for that and will try to do better in the future.

A/N 3: I love reviews. They make me feel like my offering to this fantastic fandom actually has some value.

A/N 4: You may have noticed that I've already got two Wicked songs in this fic. There's a reason for that. Wicked, in large part, helped prepare me to get hooked on Glee. Partly because Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth have guest-starred so frequently but mostly because Glinda/Elphaba, for me, are kind of the proto-Faberry.

Interlude 7.5

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Rachel Barbara Berry sat alone in her bed, swaddled in her custom-made snuggie, silent tears running down her face. She could have made a production out of it, there was a part of her that just wanted to scream and rage and stomp up and down the stairs until she felt better, but her fathers would have gotten the wrong idea. They would have blamed the wrong person.

They would have blamed Quinn.

Rachel's laptop lay open on the starry blue fabric covering her lap, playing the original version of the song 'Popular.' It had recently, for reasons completely unrelated to Quinn Fabray and her gorgeous golden eyes and her entrancingly breathy voice and that way she had of moving when she just stopped worrying and let the music have her, become her absolute favorite song. Jacob Ben Israel's blog, JBInformation, was open on the screen. Despite the unrepentant little troll's perverse behavior he was, unfortunately, usually accurate.

That's why she was really so upset.

Just above the story 'Cheerio Captains Swapping Spit,' a tragically inaccurate speculation into the nature of her relationship with Quinn, and just below one entitled 'Double the Glee, Double the Gay,' which detailed the latest way in which her birth mother was trying to sabotage her life, was a blurb 'QB?'

"Despite some anonymous allegations about his sexuality, new Quarterback Sam Evans seems to have inherited more than just his predecessor's spot on the field. Various sources confirm seeing Evans and cheerleader Quinn Fabray leaving an empty classroom with flushed faces and tousled hair, hubba hubba. Looks like the acronym 'QB' might also stand for 'Quinn's Boyfriend.' More updates as this story unfolds.

Rachel wasn't upset that she had, once again, fallen for Quinn; that had been inevitable from the moment Quinn received whatever epiphany that had returned her to her sweet self. She had always found attention, good or bad, attractive but it was a lot easier to consign Quinn Fabray to the 'impossible fantasy' category when that attention came in the form of slushies and cruel names. It was absolutely hopeless when Quinn was smiling at her, hugging her, holding her, letting Rachel comfort her. So Rachel could understand why her heart started beating faster when she saw the blonde, why the world went fuzzy and everything started to spin out of control when their eyes met.

What she couldn't understand was how she had ever been so stupid as to believe that Quinn Fabray was falling for her.

It wouldn't have been so hard if the blonde weren't so closed, if her perfect beautiful face weren't a constantly shifting mask that hid the girl's soul. There had been all sorts of false leads from Quinn herself, most notably the moaning and writhing during the slushie clean-up, but they had all been counterbalanced by the girl's dogged insistence that she wasn't gay. Rachel should have listened to her, should have ignored her own aching heart, but she hadn't. Instead she had listened to the pervasive rumors in the hallways, foolishly hoped that the fearless Quinn Fabray was just too scared of the truth to act. It had built and built and built until, nearly two days ago, when Quinn had asked her for a favor she had been waiting for words like 'kiss me,' 'love me,' 'be mine.'

Instead Quinn had asked her to watch the Cheerios.

The worst part was that Rachel knew that it had barely been a week since they had become friends. She had let her romantic side run away with her again; the same way it had with Finn and Jesse. She had started to imagine the possibility of having a future with Quinn, that they'd end up in New York together, that they'd be happy just wanting each other. Rachel snorted through the tears. The thought was ridiculous. Quinn didn't want her.

Quinn was straight and she was attracted to power; that had to be why she was jumping from Finn to Sam without a second glance at Rachel. Rachel was a girl. Rachel had no power beyond what Quinn had given her. She was captain of the New Directions, the least popular group in school, and co-captain of the Cheerios but only by Quinn's good grace. Rachel had nothing to offer Quinn, nothing but her heart, her devotion, her love.

And Rachel's love was something that Quinn Fabray neither wanted nor needed.

Rachel moaned sadly as her computer continued to the next song on the Wicked soundtrack. She curled her legs to her, slipping the machine off her lap, as she closed her eyes and gently sang along from memory. The bad posture was of secondary concern next to her feelings.

(sung) ''Hands touch, eyes meet,  
>sudden silence, sudden heat,<br>hearts leap in a giddy whirl.  
>He could be that boy,<br>but I'm not that girl.''

Of course Sam was 'that boy.' He had everything, everything Quinn wanted. Rachel could never hope to compete.

''Don't dream too far.  
>Don't lose sight of who you are.<br>Don't remember that rush of joy.  
>He could be that boy.<br>I'm not that girl.''

It was a slightly alternate reading of the text, not pining after 'that boy' but 'that girl' but Rachel couldn't bring herself to change the lyrics. It would make her break harmony with the recording and, besides, she would have rather jumped through a thousand logical hoops than meddled with Wicked.

''Every so often we long to steal,  
>to the land of what might have been,<br>but that doesn't soften the ache we feel,  
>when reality sets back in.''<p>

''Blithe smile, lithe limb,  
>She is winsome, she wins him.<br>Gold hair with a gentle curl,  
>that's the girl he chose,<br>and heaven knows,  
>I'm not that girl.''<p>

Because it really was their choice. Either one of them, the Quarterback or the _real_ Head Cheerleader, could have had anyone they wanted but why would they choose anyone else when they could choose each other?

''Don't wish, don't start,  
>wishing only wounds the heart.<br>I wasn't born for the rose and the pearls.  
>There's a girl I know.<br>He loves her.  
>So,<br>I'm not that girl.''

Rachel's hand shot out, silencing the music before it could move on to the next track. Quinn wouldn't be coming with her to the 'Emerald City,' to New York. Wishing otherwise was pointless, hopeless, self-damaging.

Except...

She was Rachel Berry, all she really had were her dreams and wishes. She wasn't going to let some slanderous bile from Jacob Ben Israel crush her hopes. She was going to have to go to Quinn, talk it out with her. They were friends now, after all.

A quiet ping drew Rachel's attention back to her computer screen. Jacob had posted a new update.

'Get your Slushies ready, McKinley High. Updated Glee Rosters are here!' Rachel scanned the list with minimal interest. She had overheard Kurt planning to jump ship and Mercedes' defection had been obvious. They had been replaced by Finn, who had approached Mr. Schue with his tail between his legs the day of the football changes, and a new girl named Sunshine. They were still down a few members but they had more than the Trouble Tones. Rachel took a moment to enjoy how short the other list was, only four names; 'Mercedes Jones,' 'Kurt Hummel,' 'Sugar Motta...' Rachel choked as she actually recognized the final name.

'Quinn Fabray.'

Yes, she and Quinn were definitely going to have a talk.


	12. Chapter 8 part 1: Fallout Part 1

A/N 1: This chapter is going to be split into two parts because this one gre out of control. As always, I own nothing depicted herein.

A/N 2: Reviews messages, criticisms, or whatever are all welcome. Thank you for your patience.

Chapter 8, part 1

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Silence, Quinn Fabray was learning to hate silence. What was the point of having a best friend if they weren't even going to talk to you? Rachel hadn't spoken to her for two days, ignoring or evading Quinn every time the blonde tried to pin her down. She could have understood if it had been last year; Rachel would have been avoiding bullying and cruel names, maybe a dumpster dive, but now she was avoiding an was infuriating. Quinn didn't understand how someone as loud as the tiny diva could disappear so completely.

That would have been frustrating enough on its own but, as usual, Quinn had more to worry about. Finn had pulled his own disappearing act on Tuesday and Quinn hadn't been able to find him since, not even to bring him to school. Mrs. Hudson had informed her that the boy had decided to walk the mile to school in the frigid September downpour rather than spend ten minutes in a warm car with his, for-the-moment, girlfriend. He must have been hiding something as well. Quinn would have been grateful for that, it meant there was something she could use as a reason when she inevitably had to break up with him, if it hadn't left her alone in a quiet car. She couldn't even turn on the radio to escape from the oppressive lack of sound. The same thunderstorm that Finn was braving had put her radio on the fritz. She needed the boy there.

More than anything she needed Finn there so she could keep an eye on him. She still hadn't heard anything from Sam, the dice were still in the air, and the fastest way to ruin her delicate plans would be to let Finn blunder all over them. She needed to try to keep the tall boy on a leash until she could clinch things with his replacement. She had to maintain control throughout this transition so that, when the dust settled, she would still be queen.

It was rather hard to feel in control, though, when everything was slipping between your fingers. Quinn couldn't get a grip on Finn or Rachel, much less Sam. The only thing that felt firm, ironically, was her family life. Russell had been almost docile since Shelby's visit, undoubtedly trying to worm his way back into Judy's good books. It seemed the experience of being thrown from his own home had been just as memorable for him as it had for his daughter. So, for the first time since his return, Quinn had been left to worry about the social ladder falling to pieces on her own.

She finally pulled into the parking lot, drenching several unfortunate students as she rolled through a puddle. She decided that she was going to start with Rachel. It was Thursday, so they had Spanish together again, and she should have been the easiest one to work out. With Finn and Sam all the romantic politics would get in the way. Rachel was just a friend, far removed from romance no matter what Karofsky said, she would be simple.

She grabbed the umbrella from the seat next to her before heading out into the rain, leaving her plans to simmer until she could get somewhere dry. Even the student body seemed hushed as Quinn entered the main hall. She could hear umbrellas flapping closed and the brush of jackets being slipped from shoulders but not a single voice rose above the gentle murmur that filled the passageway. The storm had quieted them all.

Quinn didn't worry too much about the sheep, though. She had other things on her mind as she opened her locker; like how to force someone as aggravatingly slippery as Rachel Berry to acknowledge her. It was going to have to be in class. Quinn didn't know if Rachel traveled by secret passage but she hadn't so much as seen the other girl in the hallway the last two days. She was going to have to force the brunette to sit next to her, obligate other students to fill every seat but the one by her side. She still had that kind of power. She was just going to have to move quickly; in their other shared classes Rachel had placed herself within groups of other students and now that the diva was a Cheerio, co-captain no less, Quinn couldn't just brush the sycophants away. She swung her locker closed.

''Hello, Quinn,'' the blonde's heart failed and she stumbled backwards a step. Rachel was there, had been there on the other side of the locker door, speaking to her and Quinn wasn't sure if she had ever heard a more welcome sound. The voice she had once thought of as grating filled her, dispelling the awful silence that had ruled the morning, ''I promised you we would talk and I think I'm ready to do so now. Are you?'' There was only the faintest tremor in the brunette's voice but, keyed in as she was, Quinn could still hear it there.

''Absolutely,'' the blonde said smoothly, trying to calm whatever fear Rachel was feeling, ''Rachel, I've been trying to talk to you almost non-stop for two days. Why wouldn't I want to talk to you? I missed you.'' She needed to be sweet, kind. This conversation had to end better than their last one, ''Do you want to go somewhere else? It'll be easier to talk in private.''

''No, no, we have to do this now, before I can change my mind.'' Rachel was, once again, very determinedly avoiding eye contact with Quinn. The blonde didn't care, not so long as Rachel kept on talking. She didn't even care that Rachel seemed frustrated, upset. The diva standing there meant she was being given a chance to fix things. ''Quinn just...'' the brunette had her face scrunched up in concentration, hands balled in fists by her sides, ''just tell me that it's not true. Tell me that it's not true and I'll believe you. I'll believe you instead of everyone else, instead of my own eyes if I have to.''

''Rachel,'' Quinn beat down the urge to just say whatever Rachel wanted to hear. That would only be a band-aid fix, ''Rae, I'm not sure what you're talking about. You're going to have to help me understand.'' the blonde kept her face warm without effort, smiling down at the diva. Rachel was going to have to look up eventually and Quinn wanted to be prepared, ready to catch the other girl's eyes with her own when she did so.

''Tell me that it's not true,'' the tiny girl repeated shakily, ''Tell me that you l...'' a shudder ran through Rachel's entire body, ending in a sigh as she shook her head, ''tell me that you're not choosing all of them over me.'' The rest of the students in the hallway may as well have not existed for Quinn. All that was important was Rachel, the girl who was standing there shivering from the rain or some unresolved fear. Quinn had to fix it.

''I still don't understand, Rae,'' Quinn wanted to reach out and take Rachel's hands but they were clenched tight, fingernails visibly biting into her palms, ''Who am I choosing over you? I know it hasn't been much time but I do consider us best friends.'' Quinn had said the words before, had even said the words to Rachel before, but there, in the middle of a crowded hallway, they felt like they carried extra weight.

''Sam,'' Rachel mumbled, voice barely audible. Quinn leaned in, even more interested. What had Rachel heard about Sam? Why did she care? ''The Trouble Tones, Shelby.'' The venom in Rachel's voice as she hissed her mother's name surprised the blonde. She had been so wrapped up in Beth that she had never even thought about how the Trouble Tones would affect the diva. She must have already felt rejected by Shelby after their failed attempt to reconnect and now the woman was here, actively working against her. Quinn had recognized the furious tone in Rachel's voice. It had echoed the feeling of the blonde's thoughts about her own father. She decided to start with Sam. That had to be easier to unravel than all the wrath of a scorned rejected daughter.

''What does Sam have to do with this?'' Quinn kept her voice calm, she still wanted Rachel happy, but now she was curious. If Rachel had heard something it had to be widespread.

''The school's buzzing about it.,'' the frustration in Rachel's voice grew with every word, ''the beautiful head cheerleader and the strapping new Quarterback, You're practically already an item.'' Quinn's heart leapt momentarily before she could bring herself under control. It sounded like the student body itself was intent on pushing her and Sam together. That was fantastic. This was Rachel's time, though, she had to focus. She just couldn't stop thinking about the way Rachel's downturned lips framed the word 'beautiful.'

''What does that have to do with you and me?'' Quinn didn't know why Rachel cared, She didn't think the diva even knew Sam.

''I thought that you,'' Rachel visibly bit down on her tongue, stemming the rushed flow of words for the space of one breath, ''It was my understanding that you and Finn had rekindled your old romance.'' Quinn didn't like the way the boy's name sounded coming from the other girl. Rachel sounded like she was back to pitying the boy, ''If the rumors are true then you're about to do the same thing that you did to him last year. He deserves better.'' The brunette sounded legitimately upset. Did she remember what Finn had done to her?

''You're upset for Finn?'' Quinn spat the boy's name. Insecurity flashed across Rachel's face for a split second before she nodded firmly. The gesture infuriated Quinn. She would not have Finn and Rachel running back together the moment she let the boy go. She couldn't have him. _He_ couldn't have _her_. He didn't deserve her and it sounded like she was somehow forgetting that. Quinn had to remind her. ''The same Finn that slept with Santana and lied to you about it for a year? You've been so upset about me _possibly_ dumping him that you didn't talk to me for two days?''

''Yes, Quinn, thank you for that lovely reminder,'' Rachel's head finally snapped up to meet the blonde's gaze but her eyes were hard, full of hurt. The sight tore at Quinn; this wasn't what she had wanted. ''I thought you, of all people, might understand me making the decision to forgive him,'' The taller girl shook her head gently; it wasn't the same. She was just trying to protect Rachel. She had been terrible, in the past, but she had never claimed to love Rachel. She had never played with the other girl's heart the way Finn had. ''especially when he actually came back to Glee when we needed him instead of chasing after my mother.''

''Rachel,'' Quinn sighed, filing away the information about Finn re-joining the New Directions; that had to be why he was avoiding her, ''me joining the Trouble Tones had nothing to do with you and your mother.'' It had everything to do with Beth. Couldn't Rachel understand that? Quinn didn't want her daughter to have to suffer the same pain the brunette had gone through.

''Then what was it, Quinn?'' the hardness was slowly leaving Rachel's eyes but the hurt only grew, ''Since I'm so obviously unimportant did you just flip a coin when you found some free time?'' The bell rang but neither girl moved. The brunette was waiting for an answer. The blonde was frozen to the spot by a mix of guilt and anger.

''It's Beth, Rachel,'' Quinn snapped exasperatedly, ''I didn't want my daughter to have to grow up without knowing her real mother. I thought you, of all people, would understand that,'' the blonde threw the diva's words back at her. It didn't feel like they were really talking about Sam, Finn, or even Shelby. Why wouldn't Rachel just be direct? ''What is your problem?''

'' 'My Problem,' Quinn, is that nobody wants me!'' Rachel's pained cry echoed in the rapidly-emptying hall. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she continued, ''I'm too much work for Shelby to want me! Jesse wanted another trophy more than me!'' What hurt the most was that Rachel didn't even sound angry anymore ; she sounded resigned, like she understood the things she was listing. ''I'm not that girl, that's been made abundantly clear to me by now. Nobody wants _me. _The Glee club only wants my voice!''

''Rachel,'' Quinn had to say something, had to help her best friend, but the brunette just kept going.

''Noah only pretended to want me to get to you! Finn didn't even want me enough to keep his giant hands off of Santana!''

''Rachel!'' the blonde couldn't do anything to calm the torrent of pent-up emotions pouring out of the other girl.

''God knows the school never wanted me! My father's probably wouldn't want me if they hadn't paid to have me! Nobody!''

''Rachel, you're wrong!'' Quinn could feel her own tears building. She didn't think she had ever felt more powerless.

''And, worst of all, I actually let myself pretend that you might want me,'' Rachel's voice broke, dropping to a hysterical mumble, ''I know, how stupid of me. You don't want me. You want Sam. You want Shelby. Nobody wants me.''

''Rachel!'' Quinn grabbed the small girl by the shoulders, shaking her gently, ''listen to me, please.'' The brunette looked back up slowly, vulnerably, and Quinn's heart melted. This had to be what Rachel was actually upset about. She had to make it better. ''I do want you.'' Rachel's mouth worked without sound for a few seconds before she managed to pronounce a single word.

''Really?'' Quinn could feel the other girl tense under her hands, could see her eyes widen in disbelief; she was expecting Quinn to say no, for the whole thing to be a joke.

''Of course I do, Ra...'' Quinn staggered back a step as Rachel crashed into her. Rachel curled against her, crying softly, and the blonde had to take a second to breathe. Her hands slipped down on their own, holding the brunette as she mumbled out a garbled string of apologies. She took a deep breath and tried to speak again, ''Rae we're friends now. Real friends.'' There was definitely a distinction there. Rachel was her only real friend, the only one she wanted that close to her.

''Best Friends,'' the tiny girl agreed. She turned upwards, pressing her face hesitantly towards Quinn's, ''I'm sorry, again. I really need to get better about trusting you.'' There it was; that smile, her smile, the smile that meant that Quinn had done her job right and Rachel was happy again. Her breath caught as Rachel blinked away tears, chocolate eyes sparkling.

''That's ok, Rachel.'' Quinn's voice grew shaky. They were closer than they had ever been before, just as close as she had been to Sam two days earlier. This was different though, wasn't it? They were both girls and Quinn wasn't gay. They were just friends, best friends. Best friends could hold each other like this without it having to mean anything sexual. ''You've forgiven me a lot worse things.'' Quinn swallowed heavily as Rachel edged closer.

''Rachel, Quinn,'' Mr. Schuester's head poked into the hallway, brow furrowed in concern, ''Is everything ok? I thought I heard shouting.'' His voice became less certain as he took in the girl's undeniably intimate position. Quinn forced her hands away from Rachel's lower back before responding.

''Everything's fine, Mr. Schue.'' Quinn had hoped that letting the other girl go would let her speak with some degree of confidence but Rachel had only pulled herself tighter against the blonde, ''We'll be to class in just a second, promise.'' Quinn wasn't sure how honest that promise was; irregular conjugations of the conditional tense hardly seemed important next to the girl wrapped around her, but the teacher retreated to his classroom.

Quinn looked down to make a comment but she lost all track of what it was as her cheek made contact with Rachel's lips. She stood, paralyzed, for the brief duration of the kiss. The soft heat radiating from the touch, filling the blonde's whole body, was different from anything she had experienced before. Finn's sloppy tenderness, and even Puck's cold experience, simply didn't compare to this quick peck on her cheek. Of course they didn't; those were romantic kisses and this was just an affectionate kiss between best friends. Quinn had had boyfriends to kiss before. She had never had a best friend like Rachel. It only made sense that it would feel different, better.

The brunette's lips parted from Quinn's skin after barely a second had passed but the blonde still felt like there was an electric current running through her body. The tingling energy was too much for her to contain on her own, she had to share it and she was certain she knew how to do so. Quinn could feel the tremor that ran through Rachel's body as soft lips pressed down gently against her forehead. She let herself get lost in the moment, in the smell and feel of the smaller girl. Her Spanish class could rot and take her GPA with it. It didn't matter at all; not now that Rachel was her best friend again, not now that Rachel was hers again.

''Quinn,'' Rachel's voice was deep, breathy. They were so close Quinn was sure she could hear the other girl's accelerated heartbeat pattering away. She had let the kiss go quickly but their foreheads were rested together now, faces a breath apart. ''We need to go to class now. You have to get out of here with me. I won't let you stay here.'' Quinn would have gone anywhere Rachel wanted to lead her, in that moment, even to class. She welcomed the feel of her best friend's hand slipping inside her own, taking her, holding her as the rest of Rachel's body backed away.

There were only two seats left open when Quinn and Rachel drifted into the classroom, directly in front of Santana and Brittany. The latina needed the class even less than Quinn did, the blonde captain was pretty sure San had tested out of her language credit requirements, but she showed up every class period anyway. Brittany needed her there and that meant that nothing was going to keep her away. Santana's head moved away from Brittany's ear, where she had undoubtedly been whispering either answers or dirty talk, to watch the two other girls settle into place.

''Looks like you and the hobbit finally kissed and made up.'' Quinn nearly cringed as the breath from Santana's whisper tickled her ear. The smugness in the latina's tone made the truth seem so much more... perverse... ''Thank God. I don't usually interfere in lovers spats but I was almost ready to fuck some sense into you myself.'' The blush hit Quinn's cheeks before she could stop it. At least Rachel couldn't hear. Brittany was, once again, occupying the smaller girl's attention.

''That won't be necessary, S,'' Quinn grumbled tersely. She felt like she was trapped on an emotional roller coaster. She had gone from frustration to joy to anger to desperation to tranquility back to frustration in under the space of an hour. She wouldn't have traded the chain of events for anything but she was still feeling a little dizzy. ''Rachel and I are...''

''Please stow whatever garbage you're about to spew about being 'exclusive' or 'in love.' '' The blonde's blush deepened. She wasn't in love with Rachel. She couldn't be in love with Rachel. They were just friends, best friends, the kind of friends that you let touch and hold and kiss you. You had to have sex to be in love. A strange chill ran through her body at the thought of sex with Rachel, nestling itself deep down in her stomach. How did lesbians even have sex anyway? it seemed like they would lack some of the equipment necessary. Quinn had only ever heard hushed whispers from Santana about fingers and tongues and wet and...

''It's disgusting,'' Yes, that was it. It was disgusting and wrong and absolutely not something that Quinn wanted to spend time thinking about. She banished the thoughts momentarily but couldn't seem to eliminate the new-found tension in her belly. ''Everbody's already talking about you and Evans hooking up anyway. I actually made a stack of cash betting on it.'' Quinn didn't turn around but she could hear the leering smirk on San's face. ''Besides, I'm gayer than you are and even I can think of a few uses for those luscious lady lips of his.'' It was hard to keep the damnable thoughts down with the latina hissing in her ear. Santana's experienced voice dripped with forbidden knowledge.

''Pay attention to the class, Lopes.'' Quinn snipped. She had neither the energy nor the desire to quarrel with the other girl. She should have been focusing on Rachel, enjoying the tiny amount of time left in the class. Exchanging texts wasn't the same as having the diva there by her side and, after two days of silence, Quinn didn't want to lose a second.

''Stepping up to last names now, Fabray?'' Santana's infuriating unshakable sarcasm continued. ''Excuse me if I don't start quivering in terror. I just wanted to make sure that you're still coming over tomorrow with our fearless co-captain to 'practice.' You know, now that you two are back to hand-sexing all the time.'' It took the blonde a moment to remember what practice her sometimes-friend was referring to. She was too distracted by the fact that, yes, Rachel's fingers were still interlocked with hers and, yes, it did feel incredibly nice and, no, she couldn't bring herself to let go. That suddenly concerned her much more than it had a few minutes before.

''Christ, Earth to space cadet Fabray. Please come down from planet Berry for two fucking seconds. Are we hooking up at my place or not?'' Rachel and Brittany were giggling softly and that didn't help Quinn's concentration at all. She had lost control of the situation. She wasn't sure if she had ever really had it.

''Yes.'' She said curtly. She needed to start integrating Rachel into the group. Brittany was already being nice to her but Brittany was nice to everyone. It was Santana's acceptance that really mattered.

''Fan-fucking-tastic,'' San growled, ''Now, I know you never got to use it because of your extended daddy-daughter-hate-date, but my family put in a pool. You and your new pet dwarf can stay high and dry if you want. Britts and I, however, plan on getting wet.'' the blonde's mind briefly swam in the images of slippery tan skin the latina's voice conjured. ''That's all. You can go back to listening to Schuester mutilate my language now. Say hi to Evan's massive mouth for me.''

Quinn could sense Santana pulling away, turning tp the side to re-capture her blonde's attention, but it didn't help in the least. All it did was free her mind to focus on the way Rachel's fingers slid between her own and the way they might feel sliding somewhere else. The part of her brain that was protesting, saying how wrong it was to even consider such things, seemed pathetically insignificant next to the rationalization that a little speculation wouldn't hurt anyone. She wasn't seriously considering anything. None of it was really appealing to her, though she did admit a degree of perverse interest. She just had to understand how it worked, how someone could enjoy it. She was going to have to try and fool Santana. Her interest was purely academic.

But the strange coiling heat in her stomach kept growing.


	13. Chapter 8 part 2: Fallout part 2

A/N 1: I still own nothing. Glee is the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy/Fox/whoever

A/N 2: There is a chance that the update schedule will pick up for a bit. No promises.

A/N 3: I would like to take a moment to thank those who have reviewed. Namely: Tarrien, Musicfutbolfan6, passionatelysimple, LiteratureNerd, Emri, SuperGirl06, RachyFaberry, clarieee, Brittana for life, xxDark Angel Babyxx, ths3836, Recall the Love, fja, kerigansmh, faberrydragon, one lovely guest, and especially TeirAnazazi for giving feedback multiple times. Your reviews help me keep going.

A/N 4: So, as always, your reviews are greatly appreciated. If you have something you want to criticize go ahead and do it! I want to get better!

Chapter 8, part 2

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

She couldn't get rid of it for hours. Every time her mind came close to the tingling ache things only got worse, she just remembered the feel of Rachel's skin and Santana's insidious whispers in her ears, and if she couldn't control it by thinking about it then she didn't know what to do. It was all she could do to fight to ignore it and, even then, she found herself doing things out of the ordinary; losing focus in classes where even she normally needed to concentrate, fidgeting endlessly as her hands fought to do... something, rubbing her legs together because that seemed to alleviate the pressure ever so slightly.

Rachel wasn't helping things at all either. The tiny girl had added 'x's to the periodic 'o's that littered her texts and, while Quinn couldn't bring herself to resent the little reminders of Rachel's affection, each kiss just pulled her back to the real contacts. The memory of the burning touches sent new waves of heat rushing through her sensitive body. It was torture. She couldn't stop talking to her best friend, not so soon after getting her back, but she needed to quench the writhing want that had taken hold of her.

The agony continued until lunch, which was a good three hours of distracted confusion. Quinn was seated, as usual, at the head of the Cheerios' table. She scanned the crowd, food left untouched, desperately looking for anything else to think about.

She found it.

The sight of Finn slinking into the cafeteria immediately doused Quinn's rowdy feelings, plunging her from muddled fantasy to icy focus. She had a duty to fulfil. It was a hateful duty, a hateful duty for her hateful father, but she had to comply. She couldn't draw extra attention to herself; not now that she was finally getting some room to breathe, not now that she was playing the very dangerous game that was being Rachel Berry's friend. Finn's fall was necessary for their safety.

She rose, eyes locked on her target as he tried to sneak his way to the rest of the Glee Club. His attempts at stealth didn't help him at all, Quinn was certain everyone in the lunch room had already noticed the gargantuan boy, he just looked ridiculous. He didn't seem to have noticed her yet but he would soon enough. She was closing in quickly. This was going to be her chance to demonstrate to everyone that she still had the power, that she was still on top, that the football changes meant nothing where the Cheerios were concerned. Finn Hudson had to go down and it had to be public. People had to see Quinn protecting the established hierarchy.

'He deserves better than that.' Quinn groaned as the memory of Rachel's words invaded her mind. It didn't even matter that the brunette hadn't really been angry about that. The diva was right: Finn did deserve better. Quinn still had her duty but she didn't have to make a public example out of the boy. She could at least give him a chance. She supposed she should have just been grateful that Rachel wasn't in the lunchroom at the time. Trying to deal with the brunette protecting the boy would have been... difficult.

"Alright, you," Quinn approached the Glee table authoritatively, placing her hands firmly on the plastic. There could be no confusion as to the person she was addressing. She was focused, locked onto Finn. She had no quarrel with the other Glee-clubbers, more than anything she pitied their situation, and she couldn't let anything weaken her resolve even further. One way or another Finn's time was up. "You know what's about to happen just as well as I do but there's two ways we can do it." Finn swallowed visibly, plainly dreading what was about to come, "We can do this here, in front of the whole school and all your friends," there was, in fact, already an interested crowd gathering together. Santana and Rachel had apparently been right about everyone expecting this, "or we can find somewhere private. It's your choice."

"Yeah, privacy sounds a little better." Finn said reluctantly, rising from his seat. Quinn scattered the unwanted congregation with a few harsh glances as the ex-quarterback found his way around the table. She moved to go almost immediately, when he finally shuffled up to her side, but stopped when she noticed him proffering her his arm. The blonde considered the limb for a moment, he was still technically her boyfriend and she was trying to spare him whatever embarrassment she could, before softly linking her own arm through his.

"You're drenched," she hissed quietly in disgust, repelling the urge to yank her arm away as they strolled from the cafeteria. Finn's clothing was so thoroughly soaked that the water was actually bleeding through her own. "Did you even bother bringing an umbrella on your little walk this morning?" She led them towards the same Astronomy classroom she had occupied with Sam a few days earlier. It was always empty, Quinn didn't even think there was an Astronomy class anymore, and it seemed ironically appropriate.

"Yeah, I did." Finn politely opened the door when they arrived, releasing Quinn's arm to let her enter first, "but some jerk in their car splashed me this morning," he laughed weakly, "there wasn't much I could do. I actually spent a lot of first period trying to dry off." He seemed to finally take in Quinn's stony gaze as he entered the room himself, closing the door and switching on the lights. "Oh, right, I wanted to apologize for that and for sort of avoiding you the past few days, if it means anything. I've had a lot to think about."

"Things like the Glee Club?" Quinn asked pointedly. Things were going to end with Finn in that classroom one way or another but the blonde understood as well as the next teenager that every break-up was a competition. The winner was the dumper and the loser got dumped. Quinn intended on winning and, in order to do that she needed a justification. The New Directions were that justification. "Finn, I asked you to do one thing for me and, from the looks of it, you're failing miserably. Care to explain?"

"We were wrong, Quinn," The blonde kept her face still, waiting for an explanation, "We thought that Puck and Mike would be enough to hold everyone together but they're not." From the tone of Finn's voice Quinn wasn't sure if he really did know what was about to happen. He sounded more like he was making an appeal for the Glee Club than one for himself. "They need us back there."

"Oh, please, spare me the sob story." Quinn's cynical tone cut the train of thought short before pity could weaken her. This wasn't about the unfortunate plight of the New Directions, they were just an excuse. This was about Finn. "You didn't go back until you got your pride bruised. It had nothing to do with them 'needing us.'" She hated the angry, spiteful, way she sounded. She hated the horrible necessity of the task. Finn didn't deserve her ire but she wasn't even close to finished. "You couldn't make it as the leader of the worst football team in America but at least you can go and lick your wounds as king of the dorks, right?" It wasn't even fair. Finn had never been a match for her where politics were concerned.

"Alright," there was a note of irritation in his voice now. He must have been catching on to the fact that Quinn had no interest in working things out. "I never said I was perfect."

"Well did you ever think about how I need someone perfect?" The cheerleader cut in, "I have to be perfect and I can't do that if my boyfriend is goofing around with the goddamned Glee Club!" She had always been obligated to be perfect, from the earliest moments she could remember. Even as a little girl she had had to be the prettiest, had had to have the most friends, had been taught to hold herself aloof from the children of a few 'undesirable' families.

"Is that what Sam is then? Someone perfect?" Quinn's eyes narrowed. Even Finn had heard things? "Don't bother denying it. Jacob Ben Israel's got dome pretty damning evidence up on his site." There was the explanation: Jacob Ben Israel, JBI, Jewfro. Quinn had sworn off the calumnious monster's page after Babygate, so she neither knew nor cared what he was doing, but it seemed he still possessed some inexplicable power over the flow of Mckinley's culture.

"Sam is what I need him to be, Finn." She wasn't going to let this get turned around on her. "Sam is focused on what's important right now, not on prancing around on a stage in costume."

"Well," Finn chuckled harshly, "that's rich, coming from you." The tall boy moved further into the room, closer to Quinn. "The other thing I learned from Ben Israel was that you joined up with the Trouble Tones, so you'll be doing just as much prancing as me." Quinn silently cursed the Jewish boy, making a mental note to mete out retribution some later time. "Until we beat you, of course. If you even manage to qualify." Her lips pressed together thinly and Finn continued.

"You know, I thought the one thing we might have learned together from all that crap last year was a sense of loyalty. So, let's take a look at where your loyalties are right now, cause they're not with the people who were there for you when you fell." The blonde had to bite her tongue. Trying to fight him here would end terribly. Finn was right and they both knew it. All she could do now was bide her time and wait for an opportunity.

"Let's see," he continued when Quinn didn't respond, "There's the student body, that disowned you. You're loyal to Sue, who disowned you, and to your father who, let's see, oh yes, also disowned you." Quinn ground her teeth together, it was Finn's fault her father had kicked her out, but managed to keep silent. "I used to think you had some pride in yourself but now your just crawling back to the people who mistreated you before. That doesn't sound anything like the Quinn Fabray I used to know.

"My loyalty, Finn," Quinn seethed, "Is to myself," It seemed he had forgotten who he was needling, otherwise he would have remembered that he couldn't match her in malice. He was only stupid, not evil. "to me and to Beth." She momentarily considered adding Rachel to the list but decided against it. She didn't even want Finn thinking about the other girl.

"Oh yeah, great choices, loyalty to your own stuck-up self and the illegitimate child that you disow..."

CRACK!

Quinn felt her knuckles smash into Finn's face before the thought to swing had fully registered; surprise, adrenaline, and years of physical conditioning working in tandem to send the boy sprawling to the floor. The red slowly receded from her eyes as he warily clambered to his feet. She ignored the slowly growing ache in her joints to paint a smirk across her face, sauntering over to whisper in the boy's ear.

"If you ever so much as mention my daughter again not only will I confirm the impending rumors about you having your ass handed to you by a girl," that wouldn't be enough, not for someone like Finn, "I'll set Karofsky and Azimio loose on your precious Glee Club." Except Rachel, of course, but Finn didn't need to know that part. "They've been itching for it since the school year started but I've been merciful, kept them on a leash. What they're suffering now will be nothing in comparison. We're finished, clear?" She turned to go, not waiting for answer. All she had to leave him was a nice sized bruise.

"Wow," Finn said just before she reached the door, disappointment in his voice. Quinn didn't like that. She wanted him cowed, in fear, not disappointed, "I can't believe I actually thought you had changed. Rachel's been talking you up the whole week," the blonde turned slowly at the mention of the brunette's name, "and she just about rips the head off of anybody who tries to bash you in Glee." She couldn't tell if she felt angry or giddy; there were suddenly so many things swimming around her mind. Finn, despite her best efforts, had already been talking to Rachel. That was terrible. She couldn't let him hurt the diva again. "You'd think you were, like, a solo or something because she won't stop talking about you. Every time I try and talk to her it's just 'Quinn did this' or 'Quinn said that,'" On the other hand: Rachel really cared about her. Rachel was trying to protect her, even behind her back. The blonde had to fight to keep a small smile from creeping its way on to her face.

"But she's wrong. You don't care about her, or me, or anything else!" Quinn's feelings tipped quickly back over to anger. How dare he accuse her of not caring about Rachel? He was the one who didn't really care! He had all but cheated on the tiny girl! Quinn and Rachel were best friends. "You're still just the same old Quinn! All that matters to you is you!" The shout hung in the air for several seconds, both teenagers glaring at each other in silence. The blonde didn't care so much about the accusation itself; it was stupid, laughably so, but she wouldn't let Finn near her friend ever again.

"Just stay away from her, okay!" they snapped in unison. The tense silence took control again for several seconds as they tried to order their thoughts. Quinn recovered first.

"Finn Hudson, you will keep your goddamned gigantic hands off of Rachel Berry." The urge to take another swing was nearly overpowering, "I don't care if she forgave you for Santana. I didn't and, as her best friend," she felt like the title gave her some sort of claim, more than Finn had at least. Rachel was a hell of a lot more hers than she was his. "I'm not going to let you hurt her again."

"Oh, yeah," Finn snorted, "because the last thing Quinn Fabray would want is Rachel Berry hurt, right? You'd never want to call her names or have her slushied or sent to the dumpsters, right? Never!" This was almost the worst Quinn had seen Finn. The only time he had seemed angrier was when he had discovered the truth about Beth. "The best way you can keep her safe, Quinn, is by staying the hell away from her yourself! What's the difference between you and me?"

She paused, lips curling back in a sneer. This was his trump card, the best argument he had. It didn't matter that the fight had gone from Finn to Rachel so quickly; she was going to win anyway. He was technically right, Quinn had tortured Rachel for years, but she had already thought this out. They had had different relationships before. Despite the diva's attempts, some from a very early age, Quinn had never let her close enough to be anything resembling friends. Finn had been her boyfriend. Quinn hadn't known the girl when she was hurting her.

"The difference, Finn," Quinn replied after a few seconds, keeping her voice calm, contemptible, "is that, regardless of what you may have heard from Santana or Karofsky or even your darling little Jewfro, I'm not trying to get in her pants." Her intentions were pure. Things may have started as an order from Sue but that was just what it had taken to make Quinn see. Rachel had just been waiting for Quinn to reach out and take her. "I'm lifting her up higher than even she could reach on her own."

"Then all you're going to do is make her just like you... Or Santana or Brittany or any of you Cheerio clones," Quinn's tranquil superiority had done it's job. Finn's confidence had disappeared. He was back to pleading again, "and, deep down, I don't think you really want that, Quinn... Just leave her alone."

"We'll see," Quinn smirked as she strolled out of the room. She was done talking to Finn. Her message had been thoroughly conveyed. He was no longer in her league and she couldn't care less.

They were finished.

She could feel the eyes of the student body on her as she strutted out into the hallway. Finn would probably leave a few minutes later with twin bruises, one on his pride and one on his face, but she didn't worry too much. He was beneath her now. She had other things and other people to concern herself with, people like the new quarterback... or the other Cheerio captain.

She flipped out her phone and perused the received messages. Rachel had diligently been making up for her two day blackout and that meant that, in the space of the time it took Quinn to dump Finn, the inbox had nearly been filled. It was still nothing important, chit-chat periodically interrupted by 'X's and 'O's, but that actually made it better. Hearing from Rachel about the twists and turns of her day, how she had extended her vocal range a note or a brief critique of someone singing in the showers, made her feel included.

The thought reminded her of Rachel's need to be included. She fired off a message quickly.

-Hey, Rae, I just wanted to make sure that you remembered our practice at S' place tomorrow. O-

The hugs had become commonplace. Quinn felt like she hardly sent a text to Rachel without one now, but she still wasn't comfortable with the kisses. She was fine receiving them, now that she'd managed to calm down the memory from the morning hallway was actually pleasant, but sending them was a different story. Every time she considered adding an 'X' to one of her messages she could hear Karofsky leering, feel Santana's eyes raking her body, imagine her father skimming her phone...

That thought made her empty Rachel's inbox. It only stayed clear for a second though. Rachel had evidently already been working out her reply.

-O. Of course I haven't, Quinn. Brittany was so kind as to remind me this morning while you were speaking to Santana. I would like to request clarification on one point, though. Brittany mentioned something about bringing billiards cues?-

Quinn thought for a moment. Billiards cues? What would they use those for? She really hoped it didn't have anything to do with her newly 'confessed' sexuality. The only thing she could think of was Pool... She rolled her eyes, sometimes she wondered if Britt even spoke the same language as the rest of them. It wouldn't really matter for the other blonde, Quinn was sure she had discarded clothes to spare at Santana's house, but having to translate didn't make things any easier on the rest of them.

-San got a pool over the summer, that would be my guess. You ought to bring something to swim in. O-

Quinn idly wondered if the brunette's awful fashion sense reached as far as swimwear as well. The girl's look was growing on her, as another unique thing that made Rachel Rachel, but she didn't think she had lost enough of her mind to appreciate an animal-print one-piece.

-I... Suppose that makes sense. I'll make sure to bring something over. My daddies and I will just have to pass by the mall today. O-

Quinn raised an eyebrow, that made it sound like the other girl didn't have anything to use. Maybe there was actually hope for her. She had to have picked up something in the Cheerios' locker room. Still, a little advice couldn't hurt, just in case.

-Fair warning, you should pick up a bikini or, at the very least, some sort of two-piece suit. S'll probably start teasing you otherwise. O-

Teasing was a light term for the tongue-lashing Santana would unleash on both of them, given the slightest chance. Even something as minor as 'being embarassed of your body' would probably net them both a good ten minutes of snarky quips. Rachel for the crime itself and Quinn for not whipping her 'girlfriend' into shape. The blonde shivered, praying to God that the other girl would choose something good.

-Thank you, Quinn. I'll be sure to keep that in mind while I'm making my selection. O-

The blonde was about to reply when her phone buzzed yet again. She really didn't understand how Rachel typed so quickly.

-Finn just darted past with what at least appeared to be a wet towel over his eye. Do you know if something happened to him? He looked particularly distraught. X-

Quinn suppressed a swell of irritation. Did the brunette have to care? She didn't want to have to lie to her best friend but she would absolutely not be upsetting her by telling the truth either. All she could do was hope the tiny girl wouldn't be able to drag a confession out of her if they weren't face to face.

-No idea, Rachel. He did just lose his spot on the football team. Maybe Karofsky came after him? O-

She snickered at the thought, venting a little frustration. Maybe she would make sure that did happen, show Finn that she hadn't been joking. Rachel wouldn't be any the wiser...

THUD

Seconds later she was flat on her back, having obliviously plowed straight into someone else; a someone her dizzy mind tried to identify as he helped her to her feet. Details slowly started to swim in to view as her eyes focused. The quickest was the football jacket, which made sense. Anyone without a position on the team would have been cowering away from a potentially angry Quinn Fabray. She groaned as blonde hair, blue eyes, and a massive mouth coalesced from the blur.

"You alright, pretty lady?" Sam asked. In her dazed state Quinn couldn't tell if he was ogling her or just inspecting for damage. There was a possibility he was doing both. He certainly hadn't backed away any further now that she was steadily on her feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she grumbled, "nothing like a minor concussion halfway through the school day." She was sure she'd catch flak for this somewhere down the road. Given her luck Ben Israel and his AV dorks had probably even caught it on camera. She could see the headline now. 'Top of the Pyramid 'Falls' for New Quarterback!'

"Well, that's great, because I was actually looking for you," Sam's cheery tone felt like a stark contrast when compared to Quinn's sour mood, "and I guess we just walked right into each other."

She didn't register the smile twitching at the corners of Sam's lips for a few moments, mouth slowly dropping in realization as she got the joke. Was he always going to be so lame?

"You see," he continued when the cheerleader stayed silent, "I've been thinking a lot about that offer you made and, well, I wanted to see if you'd have some time free next Tuesday." Her brow furrowed. Was he seriously asking her on a date? Right after knocking her over? She wasn't complaining, it just meant that everything was getting back on track. Sam's dorky playfulness was simply disarming.

She took a deep breath, counting to five in her mind as she put herself, or at least her mask, back together. Her face smoothed out, open mouth morphing into a shy smile. There would be time to complain about the pains in her hand and back when she didn't have a role to play.

"Samuel Evans," she spoke demurely, a hint of enthusiasm she didn't really feel in her voice, "are you asking me out?" She flipped her eyes up to catch his blue ones. That was the script, after all. This was how things were supposed to go. They'd stare lovingly into each other's eyes without feeling anything because that was what the school needed. That was the perfect couple they wanted to see.

"Nah," Sam's reply jarred the fantasy and Quinn nearly lost her cool. What was he doing? "This is me asking you out." He took her hands in his own as she tried to still her beating heart. Everything he did was just the tiniest bit off. She didn't know if it was because he didn't know how to play the game or if he just didn't care but it was playing havoc with her expectations. "Quinn Fabray, would you do me the honor of accompanying me for a night on the town this Tuesday?"

"You'll pick me up at Seven," Quinn replied, nodding. She was going to have to maintain a lot tighter control of this relationship. She couldn't let Sam goof up the way Finn had and it looked like it could be harder this time around. Sam was, at the very least, more individualistic than his predecessor. "We'll go to Breadstix and be back by ten sharp, father's rules," she added when he looked at her funny. "Any questions?"

"Erm... I guess not." Sam looked confused, which wasn't surprising. He had never seen this side of Quinn before, not since learning her name anyway. It wasn't that she was being terrible, she wouldn't be letting her HBIC out until he earned it, but she wanted it clear that she wasn't going to be playing the submissive girlfriend role. Quinn Fabray didn't obey, not where other students were concerned, she commanded.

"Good," she smiled, it still wouldn't do to drive him off, though, and you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar. So long as they kept the nature of their relationship clear she had no problems keeping up the sweet smiles and soft words.

"Then it's a date."


	14. Chapter 9: Pool

Pretending: Chapter 9

A/N 1: Nothing is mine. The characters and setting are property of their respective creators

A/N 2: Thank again to TeirAnazazi for several more reviews since the next chapter. I'm also going to thank my guest reviewer. (even your negative input is appreciated)

A/N 3: I have an (exceptionally poorly disguised) Easter egg in this chapter for fans of The Color Code. It should shed some light on how I view the characters. If you want to discuss, my inbox is always open.

A/N 4: Reviews, critiques, opinions, and suggestions are always appreciated.

Chapter 9: Pool

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"No, absolutely not."

"But, Quinn... Brittany said we were going to..."

"Rachel, I said no!" Quinn snapped. They had been arguing for fifteen minutes now. She had pulled up to the brunette's house expecting to kick off a day of relaxation. She should have known better. Chez Berry was like the fountain from which Rachel's insanity sprung.

"All I'm saying, Quinn, is that I don't think we should be caught off guard. Do you really want to run the risk of embarrassing yourself in front of Santana when she invites us in for a round of pool?" The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned forwards against the steering wheel. They had been going in circles since Rachel burst from the door of her house, a bag and two long wooden rods slung over her shoulders. The blonde had adamantly refused to let her best friend get in the car until she had carried the cues back inside.

Unfortunately, Rachel had always been just as stubborn as she was.

"Rachel, for the last time, we are going to go swimming." They had been over the point before but the brunette just didn't seem to listen. "All you are going to need is your swimsuit," Rachel's quick glance down at the bag let Quinn know that she at least had that, "and enough patience to deal with Santana Lopez."

"Yes, that's perfectly clear, but from what I understand you can never be too certain with Brittany." In a way the reappearance of the Rachel Berry who annoyed Quinn to sanity's limits was reassuring. The blonde certainly appreciated the sweet Rachel, her Rachel, but it was nice to know that the diva hadn't undergone a complete mental re-write. "Maybe our hosts want a temporary distraction available."

"Lopez doesn't even have a pool table! Just a pool!"

"Maybe she acquired one over the duration of your recent squabble?" Rachel suggested reasonably. Quinn wished she hadn't explained her history with San to the other girl. The tiny brunette had already reprimanded her for the act of betrayal, an action that the taller girl had found particularly funny. Rachel Berry defending Santana, of all people, had not been something she was expecting to see. "Maybe they're planning to take us out to a games parlor? All I know, Quinn, is that, given your description and my experience of Santana's general behavior, I want to be ready for anything. I've even acquired my own supply of betting chips on the off chance that Brittany meant a gambling pool."

"Damn it, Berry," Quinn sighed slowly, "we are not arguing about this any more." She stared forward at the dashboard, unwilling to run the chance of Rachel's eyes melting her again. "This is my car and that means my rules and that means the pool cues aren't coming. That's final. Now, take those back in your house and then get in the car."

"Fine," the other girl said quietly after a few moments, "I'll walk."

"What?" Quinn's head snapped up. Rachel was already turned away, walking towards the lawn, but the blonde could hear her inhale roughly. She would have bet anything that Rachel had just started tearing up.

"I'll just leave your cue and your chips here if you want them, no strings attached." The blonde noticed, hating herself for missing something so obvious before, that Rachel had two of the tools. "I guess I'll see you there then, Q." The passive-aggressiveness in the brunette's voice stung and, worse, Quinn knew she deserved it. She was bluntly rejecting what was, in essence, Rachel demonstrating that she cared. Rachel had cared enough to provide something for Quinn and the blonde hadn't even considered it.

Now Rachel was storming off, bag clutched tightly to her chest. Quinn could visualize the tears dripping from her brown eyes, could almost imagine the other girl's train of thought. She had been rejected once again, this time by her best friend, and for what? For trying to be kind. The image of Rachel's eyes, filled to the brim with tears because of her again, spurred Quinn into action.

She fumbled with the latch on her seat belt for several endless seconds, bolting from the car without even bothering to shut the door behind her. Every passing moment meant that Rachel was further away, that the brunette had to spend more time upset. Quinn had promised to protect the girl and, though she was clearly going to need more practice, she was intent on correcting the mistakes she had made.

"Rachel!" she called, easily gaining ground on the other girl, "Rae, please wait!" Quinn could have easily overtaken the brunette, Coach Sylvester had a tendency to make the Cheerios run after each and every mistake, but it would be so much better if she just turned around and actually gave Quinn the chance.

"What, Quinn?" Rachel didn't turn, didn't look at her best friend, but she did stop. "I wouldn't want to waste any of your time. I understand that you've been friends with Brittany and Santana since elementary school." Quinn cringed, glad the brunette couldn't see her. The memories of her rebuffing Rachel every time the tiny girl tried to make friends condemned her. She and San had systematically destroyed every chance the diva had even when Britt objected. "It's only natural that whatever affection exists between us will begin to wane now that you've mended your relationship with your real friends. Rest assured that I've gotten used to it."

"Rae," Quinn smiled softly, ignoring the leftovers of her frustration, "Best friend, remember?" She was getting to the point where she felt practiced at this, stroking and petting Rachel's insecurities until they faded away into nothing, and she supposed she was. That still seemed odd, after only two weeks, but Quinn just remembered Rachel's last-minute anxiety over the Cheerios and her need to be 'wanted' and she knew what to do. At the very least she was getting good at apologizing. Rachel's distress on all those occasions had been, in part, her fault. "I messed up, again. I'm sorry."

Quinn slowly moved up behind Rachel, grateful when the diva let her loop her arms around her waist. It wasn't the most comfortable position, Rachel still had her massive bag and a billiards cue slung over one of her shoulders, but that just meant that Quinn's face ended up pressed against brunette hair, inhaling that tantalizing berry scent. The blonde was never going to complain about that. The other girl stiffened slightly, sighing before melting backwards into her friend.

"Come back to the car." Quinn requested simply, mumbling directly into Rachel's ear. She wasn't sure if she really wanted that anymore though. Rachel was reclined against her, breathing heavily, and her brain was fogging up in that delicious way it always did when she was this close to the brunette. Driven by instinct, she brushed her lips against the column of Rachel's neck. The tremor that ran through the girl in her arms made Quinn smile against tan skin. "Santana's probably already waiting for us."

"C-can I bring the billiards cues?" Rachel joked tremulously. She sounded like she was having a hard time concentrating. Quinn couldn't imagine why. She wasn't doing anything to the brunette that best friends didn't do. In fact, the blonde felt like the gentle teasing was significantly tamer than what they had been doing a few days ago. There she had been able to see Rachel's eyes, had had her emotions raised to a peak by the emotional outburst seconds before. This was only playing.

"Yes," Quinn agreed. She didn't mention that she wouldn't let the other girl retrieve the implements unless they proved necessary. All that mattered was Rachel realizing that Quinn knew she cared. "I'll even think about letting you bring the poker chips."

Quinn couldn't see Rachel smiling but she could feel the muscles in the other girl's face pulling. Then she had to duck as the brunette spun about, nearly decapitating her friend with the end of the pool cue extending over her shoulder. The blonde tumbled to the grass alongside the pavement without grace, giggling manically at Rachel's shocked expression.

"Ohmigoodness, Quinn, are you all right?" The brunette scrambled to her knees, bag and cue discarded in her haste. The taller girl just kept snickering as the smaller girl lifted her head from the ground, gingerly poking at the back of the skull to check for damage. Rachel's look of sheer terror was one part heartbreaking, one part adorable, and entirely hilarious. "Are you still breathing? Where did I hit you? How many fingers am I holding up?" The other girl's hand was suddenly thrust into Quinn's face. The blurry digits just made her want to laugh harder.

"Two," Quinn gave the correct answer after a second or two. She thought about pulling Rachel's leg but decided against it. They had somewhere to be and Rachel didn't seem to think the situation was funny in the slightest. An unwarranted trip to the hospital would make getting to Santana's house on time difficult. "You didn't actually hit me and you have to breathe to laugh, Rae." The blonde shifted, propping herself up on her arms, but didn't actually get up off the ground. One of Rachel's hand was firmly planted on the other side of Quinn's body and the limb that wasn't steadying the smaller girl was twining itself into blonde hair, concern apparently lost.

"We're going to be late," the tiny girl murmured, "We should probably get going..." Quinn shivered as she noticed that the smaller girl was leaning in slowly.

"I, Um," a similar conversation from just over a week earlier flashed through Quinn's mind. She recited Rachel's own words back to her. The only thing that needed changing was the name. "You'll have to let go first, Rae." She supposed she was lucky the smaller girl had said that at some point. Everything that wasn't either Rachel or memories of Rachel seemed far too far away.

"I," something crept back into the brunette's eyes as she pulled away, blushing ever so slightly, "of course, Quinn." Slender fingers disengaged themselves from the blonde girl's hair and limbs moved, leaving Quinn at liberty to gather herself from the ground. She found, to her chagrin, that her breathing didn't actually even out now that the other girl had moved away. She no longer felt like laughing but she still couldn't tear her eyes from her best friend.

Both girls went about silently collecting Rachel's discarded supplies before finding their way back to the car. Minutes later everything, except the brunette's bag, was stowed in the trunk of the car and the friends were on their way.

"Just to make sure," Quinn spoke tentatively as she started the car, "You do actually have your swimsuit, right?" It wouldn't do to have Rachel show up to a pool party without a bathing suit, regardless of how well prepared the girl was for other activities. She herself was already wearing her simple white bikini below her clothing.

"Of course I do, Quinn," the brunette replied. Quinn was just glad the sarcasm had drained from her friend's tone. "I told you I wanted to be ready for every possibility. My bag has everything we'd need for swimming, poker, billiards, other games enjoyed by devotees of the previously listed, and a mini-slushie cleanup kit." Rachel patted the rainbow colored tote contently. "I'm hoping I won't have to use that one but you never know with Chee... Santana..." Quinn risked a glance over at her tiny friend. The girl was a shade of red the blonde had never seen before. She couldn't say that Rachel's lack of trust didn't hurt but she couldn't say it wasn't warranted either.

"I-I-I think I'm going to change early!" Rachel announced, escaping over the seat divider before Quinn had a chance to object. The blonde just sighed. If everything went according to plan then, before too long, she wouldn't need to feel guilty every time she thought about the Cheerios. Getting Santana and, by extension, Brittany on Rachel's side was the crucial first step. A tanned hand darted between the seats, questing for the bag, and Quinn shook her head. She wondered how much time it would take Rachel to stop worrying, hoped it wouldn't take as long as it had for her to inculcate the same fear.

Quinn was glad the drive to Santana's house was going to be short. Rachel had embarrassed herself into silence and the atmosphere was growing notably tense. Maybe Brittany would be able to get through to the other girl, maybe Santana would prick the right nerve and the diva would start talking again. Maybe, Quinn reasoned with a sigh, she was just going to have to talk to her best friend herself. She turned slightly, allowing her peripheral vision to drift into the back seat of the car.

And turned back to the road immediately.

She distracted herself with anything she could think of; math equations, songs, she even started counting the number of trees along the side of the road, anything to keep her mind away from the invasive images of the beautiful, tan, half-naked girl in her back seat.

Quinn prided herself on being a good driver but she couldn't deny that she was paying a lot more attention to the rear-view mirror than the street in front of her. She had never seen Rachel naked. She had never, excluding a few mocking doodles on bathroom walls, even had a reason to imagine Rachel naked. The skimpiest she had ever seen Rachel dressed was that damned corset she had used to seduce Finn the previous year. The brunette had actually sneaked off after Cheerios practice to change in private.

Now, from what Quinn could see in the mirror, the girl was entirely nude in the seat behind Quinn and the blonde was suffering a miniature heart-attack. She felt like she was being torn in two. One half of her yearned to turn around, curiosity begging for satisfaction, and the other refused to even consider the idea. She would not be doing something that so blatantly confirmed Karofsky's accusation, not even in the privacy of her own vehicle.

The mirror still didn't feel off limits though...

That uncomfortable compromise lasted until Rachel's eyes flashed into view, clearly connecting with Quinn's for more than a second. The blonde tore herself away to actually focus on the road, sporting a blush that put both of Rachel's to shame.

The brunette either didn't move forward when she was done changing or didn't finish changing until they pulled up in front of the Lopez house, mercifully leaving Quinn to finish the drive in tunnel-vision mode. She didn't even look at the girl when she got out of the car, instead popping the trunk and making a bee-line for the front door of the spacious building. She knew that Rachel's self-consciousness would probably make her put on some overclothes but she just couldn't take that chance, not when Santana might be watching. Quinn didn't want Rachel to know anything about what Santana thought was going on between them.

"About time you two came," Santana drawled, swinging the door open as Quinn climbed the front steps, "Britt already did." The blonde stifled her groan, wondering if San was capable of speaking in anything but double entendres. At least she knew that Brittany had already arrived. She also felt slightly cheered by the fact that, above the belt, the latina was only wearing her swimsuit. She had been right after all.

"Nice to see you too, S." The best response to the latina's comments was, in Quinn's experience, to simply ignore them. She had learned the hard way that trying to respond usually just let the dark skinned girl tie you up neatly in your own words, left to fume and wonder exactly how she had stolen control of the conversation. Non-interaction cut the snarky quips down to one or two a minute. "Ready to practice?"

"Right, Q," The blonde noticed, with a sense of dread, that Santana's eyes weren't focused on her but over her shoulder. "I'd say Berry looks ready to do a few handsprings, wouldn't you?" Against her own better judgement, Quinn turned. Rachel, having retrieved her possessions and closed the car, was determinedly making her way across the lawn. Quinn supposed she was grateful that the brunette had, at least, put her clothes back on. The diva would have looked utterly ridiculous toting everything around in a swimsuit.

"Hey, Berry!" Santana shouted over Quinn's shoulder. "Shouldn't you be in uniform right now? This is an 'official practice' after all."

"Warmest greetings to you as well, S." Rachel bustled past both of the senior cheerleaders, placing her things in the entryway. Quinn recognized the look on the small girl's face. It was the look she wore when she was demanding a solo, standing up to Sue, or storming out of a class. This was Rachel's diva mode and Quinn thought it might be the only way her friend knew how to stand up to Santana on even terms. "For your information I do, indeed, have my Cheerios uniform safely ensconced in my bag. The possibility that we may legitimately wish to practice did not escape me. However, given your own state of dress, I find that highly unlikely." Rachel glanced pointedly at Santana's red bikini top before looking about the entryway. "Where's the pool?"

Santana glared balefully at the smaller girl, pointing mutely down a hallway when she failed to draw a reaction.

"Fucking hobbit..." she hissed after Rachel disappeared in the indicated direction.

"Cool it, San." Quinn slipped a note of authority into the comment. They were 'friends' but she still needed to keep the latina on a leash. "She's just nervous. We've hardly been her best friends before now."

"Whatever," the latina grumbled, which was equivalent to a surrender for her, "I'll 'behave.'" She actually used air-quotes to frame the words. "Just don't get any ideas about me buddying up with her. I don't care how fine Berry's body is. That personality's more of a turn-off than Coach Sylvester's track suit-themed underwear." Both girl's shivered. That had been one of Sue's more disturbing meetings. "So can we get back there before the dwa... Berry taints my pool? Britt's waiting and I'd like to enjoy the water a little bit before we push Elphaba Jr. in."

Santana walked off before Quinn could agree, leaving the blonde to wonder how Santana Lopez knew enough about Broadway to make that reference. She wasn't too worried about following the other girl though. She had been to the Lopez house enough times to walk through it blindfolded, despite the size. She wandered idly down the hallway, taking in the decor. It really had been a long time since she had been there. Things seemed different.

It was quiet, for one thing. Santana had an entire mess of younger siblings. Quinn even knew a few of them from school. She couldn't imagine what disaster San would have needed to manufacture to get everyone out of the house. She supposed, though, that mentioning Rachel's impending visit would have been enough for some of the older ones though. Most of the Lopez children seemed happy to follow in their bigger sister's footsteps. The apparent absence of the parents was far more interesting.

From what Quinn understood, Mrs. Lopez didn't get out of the house much. There was simply too much work to do with mouths to feed, messes to clean, and homework to do. If everybody had left then it would have had to have been a family outing, one Santana was missing to entertain her.

Quinn stepped out into the sunlight of Santana's backyard as that increasingly familiar twinge of guilt nagged at her again. Santana actually cared about her family, whatever troubles they might have had couldn't possibly approach the tension between the members of the Fabray household. Santana couldn't have been happy to miss any of her limited family time, especially not to spend the afternoon with the girl who had betrayed her less than a month ago.

Quinn's quibbling conscience seemed to die off into the background, though, as her best friend caught her eye. As Rachel began to make her way towards her several things caught her attention.

First was Santana's mumbled whisper of, "Oh my God," followed by a chorus of barely restrained snickers. Quinn sighed. At least it looked like the latina was trying.

Second was the awkward way Rachel was walking. It was notably different from the girl's normal determined pace. The blonde supposed that was because the other girl had stripped down to her bathing suit. As sure as Rachel was of her own talent she had never been so confident in her body. That was why her tormentor's favorite nicknames had always been physically demeaning. Being in this situation, in front of those same tormentors with even less to hide behind, would have been hard for anyone.

Then Quinn noticed the third thing and she very nearly joined Santana in thinly-veiled laughter. Even she couldn't repress a brief snort. Rachel, true to her word, had chosen a two-piece swimsuit.

A blue argyle bikini.

Quinn found her tongue paralyzed, torn between the need to verbally destroy the disgusting scrap of fabric and the need to keep her friend safe from Santana. She had no idea where Rachel had found the clothing. She didn't even know that people put argyle on things other than terrible sweaters and hideous stockings. She definitely didn't know what the point was of putting the pattern on something so small. The blonde could have sworn that the entire point of patterns was to present a unified appealing theme on larger pieces of fabric. Argyle wasn't appealing to anyone outside a senior citizens home and nobody could describe Rachel's bikini as large.

The clothing was so hideous, in fact, that Quinn found her eyes slipping, drifting along the subtle curves of Rachel's body. Anything was better than trying to process the multi-hued blue abomination wrapped around Rachel's privates. Quinn was surprised by the general... softness... of her friend's shape. There were no abs, none of the hard lined muscles Quinn had grown used to seeing in the locker room after practice. She idly hoped that the girl's addition to the squad wouldn't change that. She thought she could get used to the tan, soft, inviting curve of Rachel's stomach the way it was.

"Quinn! You're here!" the blonde let out a startled yelp as Brittany ambushed her from behind, lifting her from the ground in a hug. "San said you might not be coming so I brought Lord Tubbington along to keep us company." A pale arm directed Quinn's gaze to the pool as the taller girl set her down. Brittany's pet, easily the largest cat Quinn had ever seen, was floating in the center, held afloat by a tube and water wings.

If cats could kill with looks Quinn was pretty sure Brittany would have been dead..

"You're late, which isn't very polite but we'll forgive you anyway. San said that you were getting a friend for LT?" Quinn shook her head, looking away from the poor creature in the water. There was a strict 'No pets' rule in the Fabray household and, unless it was hidden away in her bag, Rachel hadn't brought anything either. She was actually sort of surprised. A month or two ago Quinn would have sworn that Rachel was the crazy cat lady type.

She hadn't noticed her eyes find their way back to the diva but she supposed it was only natural. She had just been thinking about the other girl, after all. The diva's smile had morphed into a mildly concerned frown and Quinn couldn't think why.

Especially not after Santana whispered something about, "Not that kind of pussy, B," into the ear of the blonde behind her.

"Quinn, are you all right?" The blonde co-captain had to fight to keep the blush off her face as her best friend spoke to her. Things were getting complicated. The easiest way to keep Rachel in San's good books was this little lie, the hidden gay relationship that the latina could relate to. That was simple psychology. People tend to make friends with people when they have things in common. Quinn did not, however, want Rachel to hear anything about her ploy.

It could destroy whatever it was they had built together. Quinn could only imagine her friend's indignation after finding out that Quinn, the girl who had made her miserable for so long, 'wanted' a relationship. Even if Quinn had any interest in girls she didn't think she'd have the gall. Santana's belief of the lie just showed how far gone she truly was.

"Quinn! Brittany, what did you do?" The rising fear in Rachel's voice snagged Quinn's attention once again.

"Nothing, Rae," The shorter blonde ignored Santana's scoff, "let's go swimming." Brittany's arms unwound themselves from around Quinn as she bolted towards the pool with Santana.

"Last one in's a-"

"Rotten egg!" the pair cackled in unison, already halfway to the pool. Rachel reacted first, as Quinn had been unsteadied by Britt's fleeing hands, but the blonde didn't mind. If she had wanted it would have been easy to overtake the smaller girl, even in the short distance to the pool, and she really didn't want to. Her own long legs kicked into motion, keeping her just barely behind the brunette.

Brittany arrived first, golden swimwear glinting as she cannonballed into the water. The tall blonde always had been the fastest. Seconds later Santana broke the water's surface as well. Quinn braced herself as she counted down the steps before the jump, idly noting the sinuous way Rachel's body twisted as she plunged into the blue. It only took a moment for her to join her friends, drenching one unfortunate cat in the process.

"Winner!" Brittany crowed, making her way to a shallower part of the pool as the other girls came up for air.

"Guess that makes Fabray the rotten egg. Not what I was expecting." Santana knew that Quinn was faster than her. "How does it feel, knowing you can't even out run a fruit?" Santana leered, waiting for a response, while Quinn and Rachel exchanged glances.

It didn't take long for the splash-war to break out.

All four girls shrieked, laughed, and sputtered as water flew in every direction. The rudimentary teams of Santana and Brittany against Quinn and Rachel quickly broke down when Britt decided it was more fun to splash everybody, including herself. Quinn didn't mind, even though she did notice San focusing Rachel more than anyone else. It was all good immature fun and it gave the blonde a chance to relax. She could be herself, to an extent, and not have to over think everything. She thought the real loser in the entire situation was Lord Tubbington. The cat had been hissing and yowling since the fight began and Quinn felt terrible for whoever was going to have to remove him from the water.

Eventually, though, arms grew tired and, with one last massive splash that cascaded water over all four of them, Brittany declared herself the winner once again. Quinn bobbed over to the sidelines, taking a firm grip against the wall, and Rachel joined her before long.

"I'm afraid I can't agree with Brittany's conclusion, despite the efficacy of her finisher." The brunette parted locks of dark matted hair as she rambled. "She drenched herself at least as many times as any one of us and, from my admittedly inaccurate count, for sheer number of successful connections you destroyed us all, Quinn." The blonde quirked an eyebrow, smiling amusedly. Rachel was legitimately upset about Brittany's 'unmerited' declaration of victory.

"I suppose we could determine the results based on volume of water. Unfortunately we prepared nothing to count or examine before we began." Quinn's eyes swam down from Rachel's face, still listening as her friend jabbered on. It was hard to see through the rippling water but she could have sworn that Rachel's breasts were bigger, moving gently as the girl breathed. She supposed it could have just been the lack of a terrible sweater covering them up. A bikini, no matter how argyle, was more flattering than Rachel's normal wardrobe.

"Are they always like this?" Quinn glanced up, glad to find from the direction of Rachel's gaze that the brunette wasn't referring to her own breasts. At the far end of the pool the other two girls were wrapped around each other, lips locked together in what Quinn suspected was Brittany's reward for victory. Apparently she wasn't the only one feeling a lot more comfortable with being herself.

"Alone, yes." Quinn admitted, turning her eyes back to Rachel's face. It was much like the situation with Kurt or, at least, how things had been with Kurt before. She could enjoy someone's company without approving of everything they did. The only difference was that Santana was a lot more... direct than the waifish boy. Quinn had never had to endure sitting alongside an impromptu make-out session with Kurt because, well, he had never had a boyfriend. The worst she had had to tolerate was his constant gushing about Sam and Sam was hers now.

From the sounds drifting from the other side of the pool it sounded like the other girls weren't going to finish quickly. A smile quirked Quinn's lips as she came up with an idea.

"Rae," she said, holding the other girl's eyes, "how long can you hold your breath?"

The brunette's tongue darted out, wetting her lips in a movement that looked almost involuntary. When she dud speak it was in a quiet, almost hoarse, voice. "I'm not averse to finding out." The tiny girl leaned in and Quinn was okay with that. She didn't want the other duo to have any warning.

"Alright. You've got B, I've got S. Go." Quinn mostly ignored the other girl's look of confusion as she sunk below the water's edge. She glanced backwards once, after pushing off from the wall, to make sure that her lead had been followed. After that she stayed locked on to her target. She had to make it to Santana in one breath. S and B were practically intertwined, arms pinning them together and legs shifting between legs. Below the water Quinn smiled, positioning herself in a crouch behind San. They would never see it coming.

The sound of crashing water and a string of angry curse words filled Quinn's ears as she rocketed from the water, wrapping her arms around Santana and pulling her backwards beneath the surface with her. Through the bubbles she saw Rachel do the same to her victim and Quinn laughed, sound distorted in the water.

"God fucking dammit, Fabray!" Santana was still cursing when they came up. "Do you have any idea how close I was?" The blonde just kept laughing. "I swear to God I'm getting you back for this..." The latina trailed off at the sound of a muffled 'MMMFFF' from the other two girls. Both Quinn and Santana's heads twisted to see what had happened.

Brittany and Rachel had come up from the water, now engaged in a kiss just as intense as the one that had just been broken. The brunette's eyes were wide with surprise but, as Quinn watched, they slowly fluttered shut. The blonde co-captain's mouth fell open slightly.

Was Rachel enjoying it?

Why did that possibility make Quinn mad at Brittany?

"Oi, Berry!" Quinn stayed quiet as San shouted, "keep your hobbit hands off my girlfriend!" The answer to both of those questions had to be Brittany. Brittany was experienced, she knew what girls liked, so of course Rachel was going to enjoy it. Quinn herself probably would have enjoyed it. It wasn't fair to force something like that on the diva. Brittany was taking advantage of her own skill to make sure someone pleased her. "If you're that fucking needy then go for Madam molester over there." Santana gestured vaguely in Quinn's direction as the girls broke apart.

"You kiss good, Rachel." Quinn caught Brittany's mumbled compliment as she floated closer.

"I... Uh, th- I... Quinn!" Rachel stammered. The blonde floated a safe distance away, eyeing all three other girls suspiciously. She was willing to give Rachel the benefit of the doubt. Brittany and Santana, however, didn't qualify.

"Well, at least we found a way to shut R up. I think I can sacrifice a little bit of exclusivity for that." San drawled, "and if Britt says you kiss good then I've got to give you props, Berry. Maybe there's a use for you after all." The four girls floated, silently, until Santana made another declaration.

"Well, If we're all just going to sit here bored then I'm declaring swimming-time over." Quinn nodded, she suddenly didn't trust the water so much. It was too easy to slip up. Dry ground would let her keep things under control much better.

"Besides, I've got a pool table I've been dying to break-in."


	15. Interlude 4:Cats

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee, Quinn, Rachel, Santana, Brittany, and everything else here belong to Fox/Ryan Murphy.

A/N 2: Writing Brittany is, apparently, really hard for me. No idea why. Apologies if this is lower quality.

A/N 3: Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Thanks to: TeirAnazazi for reviewing yet again. You're a machine!

Interlude 9.5: Cats

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Cats didn't like water. That was something Brittany had always known. They even made angry noises with their mouths and spit to let people know when they got wet. She didn't really understand why they spit. Maybe it was to try and get rid of all the extra water. It didn't really matter. The point was that cats hated swimming.

Except Lord Tubbington, of course. On the outside he acted just like any other wet cat but Brittany knew better. She knew that somewhere in his furry little heart her pet loved coming to San's pool with her. She could tell by the way his tail twitched when she was setting him safely in his floaty-tube. Lord Tubbington loved the water.

He just didn't know it yet.

Brittany sighed as she gazed across the pool table at her friend, Quinn. Brittany had a lot of friends but Quinn was special, almost as special as Santana. Quinn was one of Brittany's first friends and now she was bringing a new friend to their club, one that Brittany thought should have been a first-friend from the beginning. Santana hadn't agreed though. Quinn hadn't either.

It was funny how much like cats people were sometimes.

Most girls didn't like other girls, Brittany understood that, but some did. What Brittany didn't understand was why it was so hard for the ones who did to say so. Santana had stopped being a stupid cat a long time ago, before they even had breasts or any of the other things that usually made people realize these sorts of things, but even she still liked to act like a normal cat sometimes. Quinn, though, still didn't know she liked the water.

It actually made Brittany a little sad. Quinn was unhappy almost all the time. She pretended she was happy but that was just her being silly. A thousand people being afraid of you wasn't the same as one person loving you. She knew Quinn would be happier with a girl, with the same girl she had been obsessing over since forever, but every time she said so Quinn just made angry noises. Brittany thought her friend had actually spit once.

It wouldn't have been so hard to watch if Quinn hadn't been so obvious about it. She was still being obvious. Brittany noticed the way Quinn's hands ran over Rachel's skin as she taught her how to play. She noticed even if Quinn didn't. A few weeks ago Santana had finally started noticing the same things too.

That's why Brittany had started Operation: Get Quinn Fabray Wet. Santana had laughed for about an hour when Brittany had told her the name. That was ok though. She just didn't know about the cats. Quinn was going to learn what she liked the same way Lord Tubbington was.

"Your turn, B" Quinn said smoothly once Rachel had failed to place any balls in any of the pockets, even with Quinn's help. The blue-eyed girl grabbed one of her stick-things and lined it up with the ball they were allowed to hit. Brittany would have preferred to swing it, like in that other game, but that was against the rules.

"I just don't understand this thing's name. There's no water anywhere." Brittany mumbled. She and Santana were the team with the stripey balls which reminded her of the White Stripes. They were a good band.

"The game is also commonly known as billiards, Brittany." Brittany didn't pay so much attention to Rachel. She was too busy playing a song in her head and imagining her balls dancing their way to victory. The whole game just seemed like a fun dance anyway. One ball would tag another and another until they danced their ways into the pockets.

"Thanks, R," Brittany thrust her stick forward, talking over the noisy clacks on the table, "but there are no ducks here either." She leaned against her Santana as one-two-three balls found their ways home.

"Well done, Britt," San smiled that smile that Quinn hated. Brittany didn't know if her other friend knew that San did it on purpose. She did know that she didn't like Quinn unhappy, though, so she leaned in and covered up the smile with a smooch. "You get to go again." Santana said against her lips and Brittany ended up smiling too. She liked this game.

She wondered if Lord Tubbington would like it as much as he liked the other kind of pool.


	16. Chapter 10:Check

A/N 1: I own nothing beyond my irrational emotional attachment to the characters.

A/N 2: I'd like to mention, briefly, that I don't want Russell to just be some huge, unidentifiable, monster. He's not a good person but he does still have legitimate motivations.

A/N 3: Reviews are appreciated. I'm also happy to have a more detailed discussion via PM

Chapter 10:Check

Thanks to: TeirAnazazi for continuing to review.

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

5:00 glowed in red figures from the digital clock on Quinn's dresser. The blonde was seated at her make-up table, applying the finishing touches to her face. Her room was only dimly lit, roughly approximating the ambient at Breadstix. Looks changed in different lighting and she needed to prepare herself to look as perfect as possible.

She did, after all, have a date later that night.

Quinn hadn't spoken much to Sam over the weekend nor had she met him in school on Monday. The addition of Rachel Berry to the 'Unholy Trinity' had occupied most of her time. She didn't know if it was just the addition of a new person to the group or a resurgence of her old friendships but she had ended up talking, texting, or calling Santana, Brittany, or Rachel to the exclusion of almost all else. The only communication she had had with Sam was a brief series of confirmation messages the day before, confirming the time and that the date would be semi-formal dress.

Three weeks into September a bit of an Autumn chill was already setting in but Quinn was hardly dressed for the weather. That was intentional. She knew that the wind would bite right through her pink and white dress. This was a test, one she was glad she could carry out before Winter came. She was going to give Sam the opportunity to offer her his coat, like a 'perfect' boyfriend should. Finn had finally passed after a few obvious hints. Hopefully his replacement would catch on a lot quicker.

She was just finishing applying a soft pink lipstick when a loud male voice shouted up the stairs, "Quinnie, come down for a little bit, would you?" She groaned. She had thought that her father wasn't arriving home until later that night. It didn't matter though. He was there and Russell Fabray didn't make requests.

The hem of her dress brushed gently against her lower thighs as she stood and one of the several mantras her father had drilled into her chimed quietly in her mind. 'It's all about the teasing and not about the pleasing.' The Fabray daughters were perfect, beautiful, tantalizing, desirable, and, above all else, not to be touched. Any unsanctioned interaction would despoil them, corrupt them, make them impure, and no unclean thing could dwell in the Fabray house. Quinn had already found that out the hard way.

So, she wasn't just dressed to test, Quinn was dressed to tease and she had had a lot of practice. There wouldn't be an eye in the restaurant that wasn't locked on her, either from jealousy or desire. She was just the right amount chaste, just the right amount tempting. If you were looking for innocent then all you would have to do was look at her face. If you were looking for something else then the creamy skin below her neck should have been more than enough to start the imagination working.

It was a delicate balance.

With one last look in the mirror Quinn turned and left her room, heading down the stairs. She didn't bother replying and her father wouldn't be waiting for her to do so either. The only response he needed was obedience. It took her a moment to find the man when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She seethed a bit, already frustrated. Her father had probably walked off to wherever he expected her to come immediately after calling her. The only thing that let her know where he was was a dull metallic clatter from the dining room.

"Well, isn't my Quinn pretty today?" Russell said as his daughter entered the room. The girl hated the possessive in the sentence, loathed that her father sounded more like he was talking to a pet or a trophy. She just kept her smile on, nodding as she glanced about the room. She expected that, without Rachel or Shelby or Beth, this scene from her life would play out just as her father had scripted.

"Take a seat," he ordered gesturing to a chair opposite him, across the narrow end of the table. That wasn't normal. Russell usually claimed the head seat at every opportunity, citing something about being patriarch of the home. Quinn couldn't imagine couldn't imagine what would make him give up his 'privelige,' not until she actually looked down at the table.

Mr. Fabray's marble chess board laid unassumingly between two bowls of snack food, half the pieces already arranged in front of Quinn's father. She'd be expected to set up her own side of the board. This was one of the man's favorite possessions and it was probably the only non-living one that actually left its display from time to time. The pieces were made in standard shape and covered in a thin veneer of metal, gold for one team and silver for the other. The cool firmness of the pawns, knights, rooks, bishops, and royalty calmed Quinn's anger a bit as she placed them on the board. You couldn't play chess angry.

She hadn't played in a very long time.

Russell had started teaching her when she was eight. She had endless memories of losing over and over to her father. At the time it had served to cement her impression of the man as invincible, undefeatable, and that really hadn't changed. What had changed was whether or not that was a good thing.

"I want to talk, Quinn." Russell said, moving forward a pawn the moment the last of his daughter's pieces stood in formation. "I've heard some disturbing rumours from some of the other Fathers of McKinley." Quinn hated that social group as well. It had started as a way to get dads more interested in their children's academic success but, every time Quinn heard anything about them, it seemed more like a place for the 'right' men to go and gossip worse than their wives.

"Is it true that the Berry girl has joined the cheerleading squad?" Quinn's blood ran cold as she moved one of her pieces carefully. She already knew where she was going but she deliberated, drawing out the time she needed to gain control of herself. She didn't know how much Russell already knew. She just needed to stay calm and not let her father get to her, no matter how infuriating he got.

"Yes," she admitted. The best way to lie was to tell the truth when you could. This wasn't the question she needed to avoid. An explanation would be enough. "Coach Sylvester invited her to join the squad." Her father was looking right at her with his sickly green eyes. Quinn kept herself from shuddering. She had lost respect for the man a year ago. All that was left was fear and anger. "I think it has something to do with her grudge against the Glee Club."

"Is it true that she was also promoted to co-captain?" Russell was a slow, methodical, chess player and he was much better than his daughter. She could already recognize that she was in poor position. The blonde girl identified too much with the Queen, the most powerful and only female piece in the game. While she took a piece or two with it he was generally already setting up to lock down the board. Still, he insisted on teaching Quinn. The two games of royalty were politics and chess and Fabrays had to be masters of both.

"Yes, daddy." Well, Quinn had never been much for chess but she had the politics part down pat. It occurred to her that she didn't even need to focus much on the chess game itself. Russell liked distracting his opponents, getting them to make stupid mistakes, and Quinn was a lot more willing to lose the game on the board before her than slip up in the middle of a verbal-minefield. "It's been that way for about a week. I'm sick of it." She had to slip back, to regress her personality two weeks and become a Quinn Fabray who never really knew Rachel Berry. She was surprised by how long ago that seemed.

"Damn it," Russell grunted, taking the first of the Silver knights, "I told the school board that that coach was too much of a risk." He was just talking to himself. Quinn wouldn't be expected or welcome to comment on any of it. She still listened though. There was nothing else to do and you never knew when you'd learn something important. "I don't care how many trophies she has. You don't just let a lunatic barge in and start shaking up the system for some personal vendetta." Mr. Fabray was grumbling but he wasn't actually angry. Mr. Fabray was quiet when he got angry.

Quinn considered, only briefly, revealing more. Sue's plan, still unchanged, involved destroying Rachel to destroy the Glee Club. She was sure her father would have approved of that course of action. The only downside was that Quinn would have to reveal her own involvement as well, at one point or another. That, and the fact that she had absolutely no intention of following the plan as listed any more. If her father got involved in Rachel's fall it wouldn't just be hard to avoid. It would be impossible. Russell was no stranger to 'personal vendettas.'

"If she wants so badly to get rid of one damned teacher then she can kill him and be done with it." Without anybody else in the home Russell was barely trying to keep up the act. Quinn thought he might have actually been drunk, which just made her continued dismal performance on the chess board that much sadder. It wouldn't have surprised her. He had been sullen since Shelby rejected him. The thought made Quinn feel a sudden swell of affection for her new Glee coach. "She'd get less time in hell for that than for exposing you all to the Berry's little succubus."

Quinn wriggled herself into a more comfortable position. She couldn't see the conclusion her father was driving for. He couldn't order her off the Cheerios, that would be tantamount to pushing her off her throne himself, but leaving her there meant she would be in close association with the daughter of his most hated enemies.

He continued to devolve until he was basically muttering expletives mixed with the names of the Berry family members, definitely drunk. Quinn felt an urge to defend her friend growing inside her, pressing insistently at the inside of her lips, but she had to be careful. Russell had never hit her, not even on the worst days, but Quinn thought she would have preferred violence to being expelled from the home. The line she was about to tread was a dangerous one.

"Daddy," she interrupted his self-congratulatory mutterings about corruption and immorality, "do you think this could be a chance?"

"A chance at what, girl?" Quinn winced. The interruption had been necessary to start things off.

"A chance from Him," she pointed skyward with the hand that wasn't occupied on the chess board. "God loves all his children," Quinn didn't really think God payed that much attention to people and the petty things they did but she could imagine him loving them, as long as they followed the important rules. "Maybe this could be Berry's chance to be saved, to have a Godly friend who'll influence her for good." This was Quinn's only chance to make amends, to hang on to the only friend she wanted for good.

Russell was quiet for a long time, just moving pieces on the chess board. He wasn't looking at Quinn anymore, hadn't been since he had gotten the information he thought he wanted from her. His daughter worried that she might have made a mistake. She wondered if she had just set the catalyst in motion that would drag her back into the nightmare of living without a home of her own. Even if the Fabray household was hell at least it was her hell.

"Maybe, Quinnie." The blonde girl blinked in surprise. Her father had actually almost sounded... human. "Heaven knows she needs that sort of friend with fathers like hers but..." He drew himself up, locking eyes with his daughter. "Not you." Russell shook his head, eyes never moving. "I don't want you interacting with her any more than you absolutely have to. We don't cast pearls before swine, Quinn, and we're above her. Whether it's her fault or her fathers is a moot point."

Quinn realized as she watched her father pull himself back together that this was the first time she had ever seen his mask break. She had seen mad Russell Fabray and frustrated Russell Fabray and perfect Russell Fabray but she couldn't identify a time when she had seen a human Russell Fabray, a person instead of an act.

What was it about Rachel Berry that just made things fall apart?

"Your mother and I have been talking," that was a familiar line. Quinn knew exactly what it translated to. Quinn's mother didn't talk, Shelby weirdness excluded. Quinn's mother barely even thought. Russell had, as always, come up with the edict that was surely about to follow on his own. "about your after-school activities and she's convinced me."

Quinn lost the next few words in shock.

"Excuse me, daddy," she interrupted, "I didn't quite catch that last part." At least when his eyes glinted with frustration she was sure she was still talking to the same person.

"You really should pay more attention, Quinn, especially when I've decided to be generous." Quinn had the awareness to look down in shame. The mask was back on. He'd probably never acknowledge that it had ever come off. "As I was saying, it's also come to my knowledge that, despite what I thought was my clearly displayed disapproval, you've decided to join yourself to Miss Corcoran's group of idi... young men and women." Quinn didn't look up, couldn't risk getting the answer early. He couldn't want her to quit. Those practices were going to be her only way of staying in contact with Beth.

"I was in favor of making you resign, for your own good, but your mother made a pointed argument." Quinn could hear his expression souring. She supposed it would have been too much to hope that he'd actually explain how he'd been bested. "I took an opportunity to review your roster, which didn't take long." the blonde ground her teeth behind closed lips. She was going to have to do something about the Trouble Tone's membership problems if people were going to keep snarking about it.

"I can't say I was pleased with the results." Quinn was scarcely paying attention to the chess game any more. She could sense too much hanging behind Russell's thin mask. "Even Motta's brat isn't enough to balance out Hummell's presence there but..." Her father sucked a breath between his teeth, "despite what I had heard, Rachel Berry hasn't jumped ship to her mother's club." Quinn didn't see what that had to do with much. It didn't seem like Rachel wanted to be anywhere near Shelby.

"So you're allowed to stay."

"What?" The word tumbled from Quinn's mouth before she could stop it.

"Quinn," her father huffed, "even if things don't always work perfectly in this house," she couldn't stop her brow from wrinkling in confusion either. That almost sounded like the admission of a mistake. Russell Fabray didn't make mistakes. He just cleaned up after other people. "I am still your father and I want what's best for you. You're going to have to be ready to make choices on your own eventually. A little practice won't hurt."

Quinn stared suspiciously at the man across the table from her. She didn't buy it, not at all. How could the man who had literally thrown her from his house have her best interests at heart?He was probably just covering up whatever embarrassing edict Judy had inexplicably forced on him. If it was his own idea then there wouldn't be anything to be ashamed of.

"So we're going to be giving you some lee-way in your choices from now on, even if we don't agree with some of them." The words almost sounded like they were physically painful to Quinn's father. "There are some conditions though." He held up a finger, "First: you are to stay on the Cheerios. Even with some of Sylvester's undesirable changes they're still a positive influence." Quinn didn't have a problem with that. She enjoyed cheerleading. She nodded.

"Second: This is an experiment, a practice. If, at any time, I decide it's time to pull on the reins you will stop. Immediately." Quinn had all but assumed this one already. Even when a pawn managed to get knighted he was still subject to the king. All she was hoping for was a slight loosening of Russell's claws in her life. She nodded

"Third and finally: whenever possible you are to stay away from Rachel Berry." There was no shock to mask, fortunately. Russell couldn't stand the girl or her fathers. "Your mother and I are in complete agreement on this one. That girl will bring you nothing but misery and pain, Quinn." The blonde flexed one of her hands beneath the table, feeling a phantom impression of Rachel's soft fingers shit between her digits. She remembered those same fingers on her back, twined in her hair, holding her tight when the world seemed to spin.

If that was misery then Quinn didn't think she would mind a little more.

"Are we clear?" Mr. Fabray demanded. This was the lie Quinn needed to sell. She couldn't leave Rachel any more than she could leave Beth or let herself be kicked from home again. She had already come so far with her friend. There was still so much longer to go. She didn't understand why adult's feuds always had to carry over to their children.

But she had to pretend like she did.

She nodded.

"Good. That's all. Eat." Russell's wounded pride made his daughter want to smile. His eagerness to change the subject spoke volumes about the sincerity of his feelings. She ignored the untouched bowls of chips, looking down at the board.

"I'm actually going out on a date later, daddy. Finn just wasn't able to keep up any more. The new quarterback, Samuel, will be here to pick me up at seven." She hadn't managed, and really hadn't wanted, to inform her father of the outing. He wasn't supposed to have arrived until after she had left. Still, it didn't really matter. Even Russell Fabray wouldn't get mad at her for snagging a date with the new football star. She noticed, with some frustration, that her Queen was in danger. She moved the piece forward diagonally, out of the rook's line of fire.

Russell smiled, nodding, and Quinn took it as tacit approval of her date as he picked up the rook, moving it to one of the empty squares her Queen had been blocking off a turn previously.

"Checkmate, Quinnie dear," he smirked, "Sometimes you have to let the Queen go to win. I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"Dismissed."


	17. Interlude 5:Regarding Lemons

Pretending: Interlude 10.5

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee and the characters depicted in this fic are the intellectual property of Fox/Ryan Murphy.

Thanks to: TeirAnazazi and two guests for reviewing!

Interlude 10.5: Regarding Lemons

Rachel stood in the choir room, swaying quietly with one of the microphone stands. The administration had forbidden her from exercising her vocal talents outside of approved Glee-club practice time. Apparently the faculty's after hours Dungeons and Dragons session outweighed any individual student's desire to excell. She just had to lower her expectations even further. Her adoring audience only existed in her imagination. Why couldn't they condemn her talent to the same fictional ether?

So she just swayed, humming an indistinct tune. The rest of the New Directions had filtered out ages ago. Rachel hadn't been able to persuade a single one to stay with her, to continue the practice. She couldn't help but feel that the other members weren't taking the club seriously enough. It was like she was the only one who saw that the Trouble Tones were a legitimate threat. The others were quick to dismiss the new club because of the lack of numbers but Rachel didn't think that would last.

They had Kurt and Mercedes, who were the only people in the school who came anywhere close to her vocal capabilities, and they had Quinn.

Quinn Fabray didn't just lose.

So Rachel wished that somebody, anybody, else had the disposition to work a little harder. Mike had football practice, Tina needed to go watch Mike at football practice, Santana had actually stopped Brittany from saying yes, even Finn had scampered off when she approached him. That wasn't normal, not at all. She had been so sure that he was trying to rekindle something.

Rachel cleared her mind, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Being rejected by people, even those who claimed they were her friends, wasn't anything new. She didn't really need them, didn't need almost anything from her hometown. Lima held very little for her. All she needed was her own conviction, the sure knowledge that some day she'd end up on a Broadway stage. It didn't matter if it was Wicked or Evita or Funny Girl or Phantom or any of the others. Everything she had been through would be worth it when she was taking her bows before a roaring crowd, smiling at all of them but especially the blonde haired girl in the front-row seat.

Because Quinn was getting out of Lima too, even if Rachel had to drag her along kicking and screaming. The brunette had fantasized about bringing her partners along with her before but it had never seemed so certainly possible as it did with Quinn. Finn, while sweet, didn't really have the oomph necessary to make it in New York, Puck was hardly likely, and Jesse would end up as competition. That wasn't what Rachel wanted. She wanted the firm competent support she knew Quinn could provide, if only she wasn't so damn pessimistic about her own future. Quinn was smart, talented, and breathtakingly pretty, but she was so much more than that.

She was the only one who had really recognized just how wrong she had been about Rachel before.

The diva lost herself for in the dream for a moment thousands applauding her but only one mattering.

"I'd like to propose an alliance." Dark brown eyes flew open as Rachel spun around. She knew who had spoken, of course, but drama called for the action. Besides, it was only polite to look at your conversational partners.

"Considering the chances we have of coming into direct competition in the near future, Invitationals at the earliest, I find the potential benefits of an alliance outweighed by the necessity of spending time with a traitor." Kurt Hummel stood in the far door of the choir room. He was, as always, impeccably dressed, a slave to fashion. Rachel just didn't understand why people would wear some things, no matter how popular they were. She had always dressed for comfort.

"God, not that sort of alliance." Kurt strutted into the room like he owned it. Rachel wanted to throw him back out. He didn't belong there. He had given up claims to his spot in the choir room when he defected. "There's nothing you can teach me that Miss Corcoran won't teach better."

"If you're just here to gloat, I'm not interested in that either." Objectively speaking she already knew that her mother was the better coach. She just didn't want to think about the other woman. Period. She had had her chance.

"This isn't about show choir, Rachel, though I can certainly understand the urge to cling to something when you feel threatened. Don't respond to that." The brunette shut her mouth sulkily. "This is about Quinn. She's becoming problematic."

"What possible reason could you have to complain about Quinn? She's on your team!"

"Rachel, Christ, I didn't know I'd forget how to deal with you in one week, I'm going to say this one more time. This is not. About. Glee." The female diva stared Kurt down suspiciously. Foul play wouldn't have been a surprise. She still remembered the Grease makeover disaster.

"You have five minutes." She bit her tongue, cutting off the stream of accusations she wanted to throw.

"Please, there's no need for you to annoy me a full five minutes," Kurt snipped, "I'm here out of necessity, not desire. You're the only one who seems to be able to get through to the ice-queen these days. She spends more time fawning over your texts in class than taking notes." Rachel took a mental note to make Quinn stop doing that. Notes were an important part of well developed study habits.

"I don't know what you're talking..."

"Cut the crap, Rachel. Subtlety isn't a strong point for either of us. You've probably already noticed that I've been newly smitten." Rachel hadn't noticed any such thing. She had barely seen Kurt since his defection and she had been too occupied in her own whirlwind of events to really cared what happened to her rival. "I don't know what happened, maybe I just like a man in a football uniform, but I've got my sights set on Samuel Evans."

"That's why I need to talk to you, and why I'd think you'd be interested." Rachel kept silence, cheeks swelling slightly from the pressure of holding back the words. "You see, I've had the good fortune to maintain the cordial friendship I'd developed with Sam over the summer and he confided that he has plans for a date this afternoon. It seems that our respective blondes are determined to beard it up together. He's picking Quinn up at seven" Kurt's sour tone was nothing compared to the sudden nagging doubt inside of Rachel's mind.

It couldn't be. Quinn had only just told her that she wanted her. Quinn had kissed her. Quinn wanted her safe. That was the only explanation. It was like Santana and Brittany. Quinn had to keep up appearances to keep herself and Rachel safe. That had to be it. Had to be.

"I thought that would get your attention." Kurt didn't smile, wasn't smug. He was deadly serious as he kept eyes on Rachel's dismay-stricken face. "So I only have one question for you."

"How do you feel about Breadstix?"


	18. Chapter 11: Breadstix

A/N 1: I own nothing. The songs used are 'Dance With Me Tonight' by Olly Murs and 'Lucky' by Michael Buble and Colby Caillat.

A/N 2: As you may have noticed, I'm back to being a slowpoke. You can expect an update more or less every week at this point. I'll keep you in the loop to the best of my ability. Just remember that I am committed to finishing this fic. Remember that even if I don't update for months. If I ever give up I'll at least do you all the courtesy of letting you know.

A/N 3: Many thanks for the support I have received via PMs, reviews, favorites, and follows. I smile every time I get a message in my inbox from this site. Thank you.

A/N 4: That said, further reviews/support/suggestions are appreciated.

A/N 5: Fandom disclaimer: I have nothing against the HummellBray ship or anyone that ships it. I just think it has an unfortunate name.

Chapter 11: Breadstix

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Quinn waited patiently in one of the comfortable armchairs of the Fabray living room. It was 6:55 and Sam had already failed his first test. You were supposed to arrive ten minutes early so you could meet the rest of the family. The blonde girl didn't mind much though. These weren't tests to qualify Sam as her boyfriend, being QB did that on its own. No, she was testing to see where she needed to whip the boy into shape, what training he lacked, and this one hardly mannered anyway. Russell had stumbled out of the house after the chess game. Sam would be spared the ordeal of meeting Quinn's father for a little longer.

Quinn had high hopes for the new boy. He seemed smarter than Finn and kinder than Puck. The only ground for worry was that he seemed a bit unpredictable. She supposed that could have been part of who he was, as the new kid from nowhere taking the school by storm, but she didn't have to like it. He seemed nearly practiced in the game, the political bullshit that ran Mckinley society, but every time Quinn tried to take a step forward it was like he took one and a half back. There was something just barely off about him.

She was going to have to find out what that was, of course. It would be hard to treat the symptoms without diagnosing the root cause first. Quinn was going to have to do some digging without letting Sam do the same. She didn't think anybody would be happy to learn that their new girlfriend had had an illegitimate child.

A knock at the door drew Quinn's attention. That had to be him. She gave herself a final once-over as she rose from the chair, heading to the door. She was immaculately dressed, as usual, but she was slightly worried about what Sam would be wearing. She had resisted the urge to coordinate clothing beyond 'semi-formal.' That degree of perfected presentation wasn't for someone at Sam's level. They'd get there eventually.

"Miss Fabray," Sam grinned boyishly as Quinn stepped through the door. She made sure to lock the house behind her. Russell and Judy both had keys and, if they had forgotten, they couldn't fault their daughter for being obedient. Nobody except family members got into the Fabray household when the father wasn't there. "Then, I guess we're going right away?"

"You'd guess right, Mr. Evans," Quinn smiled in return. She was impressed when his eyes stayed locked on hers. Finn would have been trying to steal glances at the slight amount of cleavage showing. Puck would have made a comment. Sam seemed content to maintain eye contact. Maybe he had looked her over when she was closing up the house. "Show me to the car?" She asked cordially. Regardless of whether or not Sam was going to be chivalrous she needed the chance to inspect her new partner.

Sam was sporting a deep red button-down shirt and normal blue jeans, both within the acceptable boundaries of semi-formal clothing. What drew Quinn's attention more than anything else were the slightly frayed cuffs, on the short-sleeved shirt. The damage had to have been old. Shirts like that didn't chew themselves up overnight. Quinn also realized, as she continued looking, that the shirt didn't fit very well. It looked just a little too big.

Sam had showed up, practically late, in clothes that fairly clearly weren't his. Quinn wasn't sure if she should feel concerned or insulted.

"As you wish," Sam said, offering the crook of his arm. Quinn slipped her hand into the available space, shivering slightly in the cold wind. She noticed, disappointed, that Sam didn't actually have a coat or suit or jacket to offer her but it was far too late to go back for her own. They were already leaving. She would just have to hope Sam had something in his car. "One problem though."

"And that would be?" Quinn had to steer him away from the immaculately trimmed lawn before she could look up at him. The grass, just like everything else, was there to be admired rather than used. She found herself frustrated with the boy's height. It was nothing compared to standing next to Finn but it was still difficult to take charge of anybody who was a head taller than you.

"I," only the lightest pink tint gave away Sam's blush, "well, I don't have a car." He didn't even look away. "I looked it up on Google Maps and this Breadstix place isn't too far from here." Quinn found her mental complaint about the eliminated possibility of receiving a coat swallowed by a growing respect for the boy next to her. He was clearly frustrated by something but, rather than sinking into self-pity, he stayed focused on Quinn. The attention was flattering. "I was thinking that we could walk there together?"

She didn't grimace at the idea, with someone so attentive there it would be important to keep up her act. She didn't really have a choice anyway. Russell would give himself a heart attack if she had to drive them to her first date. That was the boyfriend's job. She could, at the very least, spin the evening walk as properly romantic if she had to.

"Lets go." Quinn nodded, tucking herself more firmly against Sam's side. That was going to have to do for warmth. The restaurant was only fifteen or sixteen minutes away by foot.

"So, how long have you been here in Lima?" The cheerleader asked. Sam's history was still a mystery to her. She knew a lot of people didn't think she would be interested in that sort of thing, that all she was looking for was a person with power, but that wasn't how it worked. Sometimes she felt like she needed to know her partners better than anyone else. If she didn't then she wouldn't be able to manipulate them and, if she couldn't manipulate them, then they were manipulating her. People's pasts often held the keys to the way they thought.

She hadn't done so well with Finn or maybe there just hadn't been much to find. She had known that he had a widowed mother, that he nearly worshipped his father's memory. She had done everything except sleep with him, even living in his house for a period of time, but she had never been able to translate that into the control she needed. Finn had always been slipping out and tripping up, joining Glee, spilling the beans about Beth, chasing after Rachel Berry.

That was it, really. Finn had worse tunnel vision than anyone except for the diva herself. It was awfully hard to keep up a relationship with a boyfriend who was giving first class attention to someone else.

Quinn shook herself to attention. She had missed most of Sam's response. Apparently Rachel was dangerous to her focus as well. She just hoped Sam wouldn't develop the same tendencies.

"And, you guys? How long has your family been here?"

"Ages," Quinn responded promptly, glad that she had actually caught the question. The Fabrays had been part of Lima since its birth. The family name was actually on four or five bricks in the aging chapel, each one representing another generation of Fabrays that had given generous service or, in Russell's case, money to the church. Quinn didn't know if she'd be adding to that collection. She actually wasn't sure if they acknowledged women in the same way. "A lot longer than I've been alive. We've had a spot on the city council since it was organized."

"Your dad's into politics?" Sam, to his credit, seemed like he had noticed that Quinn was feeling chilly. The boy had shifted to put himself between Quinn and the wind as much as possible while still escorting her. "Is he more Galactic Senate or Evil Empire?"

"More like God, really," Quinn said after the second it took to decipher the second half of Sam's question. "He's always right and any wavering from his position will be met with quick punishment." Russell approached his position in the public sector in the same way he ruled his private life: with an iron fist. Quinn didn't think it necessary to mention, though, that her father had come closer to losing his seat than any Fabray in Lima history.

"Definitely more like Emperor Palpatine then or, at least, Darth Vader." Quinn wondered if there was a way she could polish out the sci-fi references. It was unseemly for the quarterback to go around spouting words that should have stayed in AV club. That would be a long term project though. People didn't change vocabulary overnight.

"I guess that would make you Princess Leia then, right?" Quinn blushed, just a bit. That wasn't something she had ever heard before. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be funny or flirty or, possibly, insulting. She thought carefully about her response, trying to get on the same level.

"If you're trying to get me in a metal bikini then you're out of luck." Quinn felt out of her depth but not out of control. This was just playful banter. Letting it flow naturally would be good for things. "It's way too cold out here and you aren't nearly as cruel as... That huge slug thing..."

"Jabba?" Sam prompted helpfully. "Nah, I like to think I'm more like Han Solo. Witty, charming, incredibly handsome." Quinn rolled her eyes. Of course he had cast himself as the love interest. She had a passable knowledge of Star Wars trivia, even though it had deteriorated with years of disuse. Her childhood had been filled with that sort of movie: family-friendly flicks about the conflict between a clearly defined good and evil. It was fairly obvious why they had been appealing to her parents. They had always hated relativism.

"You have to have a vehicle to be an ace pilot, Sam." Quinn teased. It was just as easy to see why the sci-fi and fantasy movies had stopped as she grew older. It wouldn't do for Russell's perfect daughter to go around acting like a nerd. "Besides, with the whole blonde-haired, blue-eyed, innocent farm boy thing you've got going on you're a lot more like Luke," she smirked a little, "the princess' brother."

"Who still gets a kiss in the end." Sam chuckled and Quinn felt the smirk slipping away. She had almost had him.

"We'll see how that ends up working out." Quinn searched for another subject. They still had four or five minutes to go before arriving at Breadstix and she didn't want to spend the whole time talking about lightsabers and X-wings. "Speaking of work: do you have a job?"

Finn had had one, for a while. Rachel had guilt-tripped the owner of a call center into giving the 'poor wheelchair-bound boy' a place to work. Quinn couldn't say if she had preferred things with the job or without though. The extra money was nice, of course, but it had been so much harder to keep tabs on things when he was out of her sight. The fact that it had been Rachel who got him the spot had also rankled Quinn at the time.

"Yeah, I'm a, uh," Quinn's eyebrow rose as the boy corrected himself. She didn't think he knew what the signal meant, that it demanded explanation, but he was going to have to learn. "I work a night shift at a cafe a bit out of town. I actually had to cancel that to come to this, tonight." Quinn shrugged. At least he knew what was important and his schedule probably wouldn't interfere with the Cheerios functions he'd be expected to support her at. She'd pry the details out of him later.

"You'll be glad you did," Quinn assured the boy. She was going to make sure of it too. As long as everything went according to plan she would make sure that Sam was the happiest boy in school. "Breadstix isn't the fanciest place in Lima but there's a reason it's so popular." The cheerleader was pretty sure the reason was tradition because she didn't like the food there much. The restaurant had just, somehow, become the place to go for dates.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy myself too. The rest of the football team, most of 'em anyway, has been congratulating me all week. I think that has more to do with you than Italian food though." Sam was right; Quinn did have a reputation in the men's locker room. According to Santana and Brittany, who were actually pretty reliable sources, that reputation was half tease and half ice queen bitch but there wasn't a boy there who wouldn't jump at the chance to melt her.

"I guess you're about to find out," Quinn commented playfully. The familiar lights of the Breadstix parking lot were becoming more and more clearly defined as the pair approached. She picked up the pace a little bit, happy to get herself out of the cold. Sam was nice and he had done his best but he just didn't compare to a coat or, even better, the heated interior of a building.

Quinn noticed the events billboard as they entered the restaurant, large chalk letters announcing that it was karaoke night. She rolled her eyes as she moved ahead of Sam, face safely out of his line of sight. She wasn't looking forward to being serenaded by the tipsy regulars of Lima's only Italian restaurant. Normally the event was on Saturday, when more people had free time. It had been an easy thing to avoid, either by scheduling dates on other days or passing by to eat before the singing started. A brief apology taped beneath the announcement itself, citing restaurant renovations, confirmed the unfortunate truth that in twenty minutes the competition would start.

"Fabray, table for two." the cheerleader announced to the seater, keeping the irritation. She was sure she was going to regret reserving one of the tables in the center of the floor. The idea had originally been to draw attention to them. She had wanted to be seen, even asking for a larger table for just the two of them. That had been before she knew that music was going to worm its way into the night. Quinn knew from experience that getting an unwanted serenade was hideously awkward. She also knew that the pretty girl in the center of the floor was a perfect target for the songs of every lonely drunk in the building.

"Hmm, Karaoke." Quinn heard Sam's voice from over her shoulder as the seater fussed with a computer screen. "Sounds fun. You want to try it out?"

"No," she snapped quickly. Her father had barely decided to tolerate her participation in the Trouble Tones. She didn't want to push her luck until she knew where the newly flexible boundaries had been set.

"Why not?" Quinn had to control herself, biting her tongue. Sam hadn't had the chance to learn who really directed their relationship. He didn't know that her saying no was reason enough. Those were things she still had to teach him. She had to play nice in the meantime. "We're on a date. That's something we can do together besides just eat. Shouldn't you be into singing anyway? You're in one of the Glee clubs."

Quinn kept her mouth shut as she thought things over. Her first, stupid, impulse had been to claim that she was only in the Trouble Tones for Beth. The potential consequences of that, though, outweighed any amount of embarrassment one song on stage could cause. Sam would stay in the dark about Babygate as long as she could keep him there. The chance of the blonde boy reacting well to Quinn's past was minimal.

"Fine," she conceded as an overly cheerful waiter approached, beckoning. "You go and get us registered and I'll get a head start on ordering." Quinn already knew exactly what she wanted; it hadn't taken many dates to figure out that the Breadstix chefs couldn't handle anything complicated. She wouldn't let herself be seen signing up for karaoke though. If Sam did it on his own she could pass it off as a surprise to any curious bystanders. Hopefully the compromise would appease the boy.

"If you have to choose a song then make sure it's something appropriate, simple, sweet, popular." She made sure to emphasize the last quality. She didn't want to end up singing along to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Sam nodded and wandered off in search of the sign-in before Quinn turned to follow the waiter to her table.

After taking a moment to confirm that the restaurant hadn't changed the years-old menu Quinn dropped her copy to the table. She glanced around, breathing deeply. The atmosphere was nice, at least, even if it was a little stereotypical. The yellow faded lamps simulated candlelight decently and the plastic gardens were arranged well enough. Breadstix was slightly more crowded than normal that night. Quinn supposed it was for the karaoke. Even if the Glee club was at the bottom end of the social ladder it hadn't always been that way. A lot of people from her father's generation had been happy to sing and a little alcohol brought back old memories.

The blonde girl felt like the extra occupied tables detracted a little from the romantic feel. She had always enjoyed the public privacy afforded by the restaurant's slower hours. She guessed she was in the minority though. There was no lack of couples crowding the building. An elderly pair sat two tables over from Quinn, she could hear the conversation from a double date floating over one of the dividing walls, and there was even a pair of girls buried in their menus in a nearby alcove. She snorted quietly at the last two. One of the girls had on a ridiculous, multi-colored, striped coat on and she could see a white cap poking above the menu.

Quinn pulled out her phone, turning her attention away from the rainbow-clad disaster. She had been trying to avoid checking her messages so she could stay focused on Sam. The boy's absence was her chance. It didn't matter much though. The only truly distracting texts came from Rachel and the diva hadn't said anything for a few hours. Quinn wasn't panicking this time, there hadn't been anything that merited it. It was possible that Rachel was just busy, practicing for glee or eating with her fathers or something else mundane.

The last time she had stayed quiet so long she had been emotionally hurt though... Quinn started typing out a message.

-In Breadstix. Thought about you cause it's karaoke night. Haven't heard from you for a bit. Hope everything's ok, Rae. O-

Quinn frowned down at the text, deliberating whether or not to add an X. It seemed to make Rachel a little happier when she did it; the brunette's texts came faster and were generally more upbeat afterwards, but that worried Quinn now. She knew how she meant the kisses but, after Santana's pool party, she didn't want them misinterpreted. Rachel wouldn't want that kind of kiss. If she did then she could have gotten them easily from Santana, or at least Brittany, before. Overuse could give the symbols a different meaning. She sent the message as it was, tucking the phone into her pocket with a sigh.

Quinn's hand slipped and her cell clattered to the floor as someone else's sounded nearby. Hazel eyes flickered back over to the girls in the alcove. Rainbow-coat was fumbling in an oversized pocket, face still hidden in the pages of her menu. The blonde stared suspiciously. Surely it was just a coincidence. She collected her phone before focusing, trying to catch a snippet of conversation as a waiter approached the pair.

"... didn't even turn off..." Rainbow-coat's short haired companion had a strangely low voice. Quinn kept losing track of it in the hubbub of the restaurant. "... besides her text you... The Stix-tossed Ceaser, thank you." Quinn's eyes narrowed as a familiar face rose from one of the menus. Delicate, but still distinctively male, features had turned to address the waiter directly.

"And for you, ma'am?" Quinn got up from her seat as Kurt's companion continued perusing the entrees.

"The same," Quinn barely heard the whispered reply, probably wouldn't have associated it with that table if she hadn't been paying attention. "For your information, Kurt," the voices became clearer as Quinn approached the pair, "I have to keep my phone on for my fathers. They're very... No. nonono." Rainbow-coat still hadn't taken her face from her menu but the waiter was trying persistently to collect it. "Can I just keep this, please?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're especially busy tonight and we only have a limited number of menus."

"But, no! Then she'll..." Rachel squealed quietly as the laminated paper was tugged from her hands. She cowered down into the seat, still talking as Kurt hissed at her.

"Oh, God, just act natural."

"see me!"

"Rachel, Kurt?" Quinn asked, confirming the obvious. "What are you doing here?" The brunette really should have followed Kurt's advice. Quinn wouldn't have even cared if Rachel weren't having a nervous breakdown in the chair. She was actually almost concerned for her friends health at that point.

"Quinn... I..." There was a guilty look clinging doggedly to Rachel's face. The cogs in the blonde's head began to turn slowly. "I'm sorry! We can ex..."

"Not that it's any of your business but we, Madam Fabray, are on a date." Kurt snapped in explanation and Quinn had to stop herself from laughing out loud. "You'll notice that we didn't stop to interrogate you and Samuel as you came in."

"You two, on a date?" Only Rachel's presence kept the smirk that Kurt deserved off of Quinn's face. The waif had reminded her of Sam and that had snapped a few things into clarity. He was there to keep tabs on the quarterback, Rachel's panicky inability to lie gave that much away. The blonde permitted herself another roll of the eyes. At least that confirmed that her Sam and his Sam were one and the same. "and here I though you both knew better than to get involved with the competition." She had had to swallow her initial comment about Kurt's sexuality, again for Rachel's sake.

That did bring Quinn to point number two. Why was Rachel there? Kurt's purpose was clear. Quinn doubted that Sam was practiced enough in the game to realize that he was being pursued but it was obvious to her. She supposed that meant that Rachel had to be there for her. She just didn't know why the brunette would even want to spy on her best friend's date.

"Again, it's hardly your business, Quinn." the blonde let her gaze drift back to the sarcastic boy, listing off possibilities. Maybe Kurt had dragged Rachel along for plausible deniability. Maybe Rachel had some previously unknown interest in Sam. That idea made Quinn's lips twitched in displeasure; she had already had to deal with that problem with Finn. "People are free to date who they want, regardless of how absurd it may appear to everyone around them." Maybe Rachel just wanted to make sure her best friend was safe with the mysterious new boy.

Quinn liked that theory.

"A-a-and it's karaoke night." Rachel had returned to coherence. One look at her earnest, almost fearful, face and Quinn knew it had to be idea number three. The brunette wasn't glaring at Kurt or looking about the restaurant for Sam. She was focused on Quinn, eyes filled with so much concern that it was almost painful. "I haven't missed one in six months and I'm not planning on starting now and, seeing as my fathers weren't available to accompany me, Kurt made the generous offer to assist me with my customary duet." Quinn corrected one of her earlier thoughts. Rachel couldn't lie unless she was given a chance to wind up.

"Interesting," Quinn said, sounding utterly unconvinced. She had no way to confirm any of what Rachel had said but it was so clearly not the actual point that she wasn't going to bother probing. "Sam's signing us up right now." She didn't know exactly where he had gone or when he would get back but she imagined he was getting them a time.

"Listen," Quinn said as an idea occurred to her. "Come over and sit with us." It would be so much easier to keep track of the divas and their misguided plan that way. "We ended up with a larger table tonight and I'm sure Breadstix will appreciate the extra seating." The extra people at the table would also dilute the inevitable karaoke attention. "We can eat, talk, sing. It'll be fun and I'm sure you'll have a few pointers for our performance." She smiled sweetly at Rachel, because it was somehow easier than doing the same for Kurt, as she waited for a response.

"We'd be more than happy to," Kurt's voice eventually sounded from just outside Quinn's field of vision. She had gotten stuck on the last step of her performance, frozen there smiling at the brunette girl. Her eyes wouldn't let her move on, not until she had figured out what was worrying her friend.

"Show you to our table?" the blonde extended a hand, pretending that they didn't already know exactly where they were going. Rachel perked up a bit, leaning forward, arm moving towards Quinn's.

And Kurt took the outstretched hand.

"Thank you very much," he said, rising from the seat as Quinn stared incredulously at their joined hands. The lack of sarcasm, of any cutting emotion at all, in his voice almost made it worse. It was like he didn't realize the mistake he had just made. She flexed her fingers uncomfortably around his hand. That wasn't his spot. Rachel was supposed to fit there.

"Go ahead and show Kurt over," Rachel said quickly. "I've got to take a trip to the restroom." Quinn didn't understand why the brunette didn't look angry, or even upset, with Kurt. The boy had just blatantly stolen her rightful position. She looked concerned but her quick glances away from Quinn's eyes weren't towards him. "Don't worry," Rachel said reassuringly, rising from her seat, "I'll be right back."

Quinn rounded on Kurt the instant her friend had gone. He was standing there contentedly, almost smugly, still holding her hand. She wordlessly started over to the table, all but dragging the boy behind her. She couldn't drop the hand she had just taken, not in front of every watching patron, but she wasn't going to draw it out any longer than necessary. Once there, she pointed gruffly at the chair diagonal from her own. Sam would be sitting across from her and she really didn't want Kurt at her side at that point.

"Funny, I thought a year was enough time to get over the post-pregnancy bitch phase." Now Quinn knew Kurt looked smug. It seemed had fallen into old patterns just as much as she had. The effeminate boy had always had a knack for sounding insufferably superior.

"I thought you had learned a lesson about stalking straight boys last year," she growled in turn. They had been making slow progress before, mostly thanks to Mercedes' unwillingness to kick Quinn out on the street. Kurt had been a pretty frequent visitor throughout the blonde's time in the Jones household. Quinn hadn't liked it but she had also recognized that she had no room to demand anything from her host. She had tolerated Kurt. It turned out that, once he let himself out of his shell, he wasn't that bad.

Slushies were remarkably effective at destroying progress though.

"Please, Sam's no straighter than I am," Kurt continued, unfazed. "It doesn't surprise me, given your parents, that you've fallen into the trap of equating appearance with sexuality. I would have hoped, though, that your long association with Santana and Brittany could have taught you something about that." Quinn drummed her fingers against the table as she waited for Kurt to finish. "There are little signs you have to look for. With Sam, for example..."

"Kurt? Man, it's good to see you again!" Sam ignored his chair, pulling Kurt by the rapidly proffered hand into a one-armed hug. Quinn just stared. Did Sam know Kurt was gay? How could he miss it? The only person who had ever managed to ignore all of Kurt's 'signs' was Mercedes and nobody let her live that down. If he knew then why didn't he care? Quinn knew she wouldn't hug Santana and the same general idea should have applied. "What are you doing here?" but Sam just seemed... happy as he sank down into his seat.

"Well, as I already related to your lovely date," it was almost funny how quickly Kurt put on a different face. Sharp superiority was replaced in an instant by charming politeness. "I'm here to help one Miss Rachel Berry with her scheduled duet."

"I did see a 'Kurt' on the sign up list over there" Quinn exhaled quietly, fighting the urge to just tune both of the boys out. In a few minutes Rachel would get back and she'd have someone she could actually talk to. "We're going to be singing too." At least she knew that Sam had actually gotten something done while he was absent.

"Oh, really? Well did you know it's a contest?" Sam shook his head. "Rachel's won fourteen times in a row now and, with my help, there really shouldn't be any contest. Which means, my apologies, that you two are going down." That was probably true. Rachel and Kurt bickered constantly but when they shut up long enough to sing it was enough to make anyone listen.

Sam laughed, "We'll see, Kurt," he said and there the smaller boy visibly lost his train of thought. "I think Quinn and I are taking the trophy home tonight." The corners of Quinn's lips quirked upwards as she watched Kurt watch Sam. Kurt was clearly smitten, just staring at the blonde boy as he chuckled. Anybody else, even Rachel or Mercedes, would have been dragged up on to the makeshift stage for a musical duel to the death at that point. You just didn't challenge any of the diva triad unless you could back it up; they'd destroy you. Adding that to their horrible popularity made it clear why all three were so secure in their unenviable positions. Quinn supposed Rachel was moving up but that was in spite of the singing, not because of it.

Kurt, though, had all but ignored the implied challenge. The boys were just chatting. Quinn didn't mind the lack of attention. Less eyes on her meant that she didn't have to worry so much about her act. If she had had any real feelings for Sam then she would have considered getting offended. It wasn't even worth worrying about all the other people in the building at that point; any real sense of romance had already fled. They felt like a group of friends at dinner, nothing more.

Time slipped a bit. Quinn was only loosely paying attention, more involved in the hem of her dress than anything her companions were saying. A waiter passed by at some point to take orders and confirm the 'HummellBerry' table change. That had made her smile for the better part of a minute. It was just like Kurt and Rachel to be unable to settle on one name. She bet they had even argued about which surname would come first. Bored, she idly mixed together her last name with those of the rest of the group.

HummellBray, it would have to be that way. Kurt wouldn't have his name cut off and, with that condition, they didn't fit together any other way. It was a terrible name though, reminded Quinn of a donkey.

Fabrevans. Quinn would insist on placing her name first there. She could lose the 'ay' without a problem in exchange. It, at the very least, flowed smoother than her name with Kurt's.

Faberry. The blonde girl actually mouthed that one silently. One name rolled into the other perfectly. She imagined that Rachel would want her whole name on the list too but she didn't think the brunette would have a problem letting her come first.

A flash of rainbow fabric let Quinn know that her best friend had returned to sit beside her. "Well, ladies and gentlemen," the blonde keyed into Rachel's voice easily, "are we all ready for tonight's entertainment to begin?" The tiny brunette was slightly flushed but Quinn kept her mind from following that cue. She didn't think there was a level of friendship where she'd want to know about someone else's bathroom problems. "We're about to celebrate the fifteenth continual victory of the Berry family in Breadstix's weekly karaoke competition."

"As Quinn already knows," Rachel was gesturing wildly as she spoke, more so than normal, "we have a rigorous practicing regime in my home for this sort of thing and, despite the absence of both of my fathers, I'm sure that Kurt and I will be able to provide a passable alternative." On one of the downswings the brunette's right hand didn't rise with its partner. Quinn's unspoken question was answered when, seconds later, Rachel's fingers closed around hers, where they were supposed to be.

"There'll be several openers before we get to the main act, Kurt and I have calculated the best moment to make our performance," Quinn had almost forgotten how excited Rachel got when she was talking about singing. The boundless, slightly obsessive, energy illuminating the girl's face was enthralling. "First is no good. We need a few acts before us to get people into the swing of things but, if we wait too long then even the weak vintage they serve here will have thinned the ranks of the attentive."

"Should we really be telling them all of this?" Kurt questioned. "You know, magician never reveals his tricks and all that?"

"Oh, it's far too late to change positions on the list." Rachel chirped happily. "They were carrying it into the back room for review when I passed by."

"Well, I think we're on there one or two slots after you guys." Rachel's head whirled to stare at Sam as he spoke. Her hand tightened, fingers slipping between Quinn's. The blonde had to keep herself from sighing contentedly. That was what she had wanted.

"I didn't know you were participating, Quinn." Rachel smiled broadly. It wasn't Quinn's smile, this one was clearly meant for other people to see, but she still smiled back. "That's fantastic. The only thing you really lack is practice. Even if you don't measure up to Kurt and I you'll be taking a step in the right direction. I'm afraid I don't know your new friend's capabilities so I can't legitimately judge him."

"Oh, right," Quinn realized that Sam and Rachel probably didn't know each other. "Rachel, this is Sam Evans. He invited me here tonight." A shadow crossed the brunette's face for a millisecond but Quinn still caught it. "Sam, this is Rachel Berry, my best friend."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sam. Kurt's been telling me a lot about you. We've been really quite busy recently so we haven't managed to put anything together during school hours but I'd like you to consider this performance your official McKinley High New Directions,"

"Trouble Tones," Kurt interrupted.

"Glee club welcome" the brunette continued with just a hint of sourness. "We, as well, will be eagerly awaiting your performance." Quinn was sure that was true. Rachel loved winning.

"Dear customers of Breadstix," a voice boomed from the speakers on the stage. A pudgy man in a suit had climbed atop the wooden platform to speak into the microphone. "The staff and I would like to thank you all for joining us here at our thirty-fourth weekly karaoke competition. We apologize again for the change in schedule." The hubbub of the restaurant slowly started to die down as the man spoke and the lights dimmed, leaving a few spotlights for main illumination.

"I'm Oscar Antony, though I know there are some of you out there who call me Mr. Stix," he winked at one of the few groups who had chuckled, "and I'll be your host for the evening." Quinn noticed that Rachel's lips were moving in unison with Oscar's spiel, brown eyes riveted to the stage. "We'd also like to recognize the presence of our current champion. Here to defend her crown for the fourteenth time: Miss Rachel Berry! Let's get a round of applause!" The diva rocketed to her feet, posing and preening in the spotlight that swiveled to focus on her. Quinn would have joined in the scattered clapping echoing around the room but Rachel hadn't actually let go of her hand. It felt like she was holding on tighter.

"Thank you again, Miss Berry, for your faithful patronage," Oscar said, lights returning to him. "I'm sure we're all looking forward to your performance later tonight but, first, let's have a warm Breadstix style welcome for Andrew Sanderson and his rendition of 'Dancing Queen.'"

Oscar jumped from the stage as a projector flickered to life, casting a blue square on the far wall. The familiar song intro began to play and another middle-aged man stood up on the stage, practically clinging to the microphone. After a few notes the words to the song appeared.

"Oh, God," Kurt deadpanned as Andrew's voice lurched into the first word. "First rule of karaoke. ABBA doesn't actually make you sound any better." He cringed.

It only took a few performances for Quinn to decide that she had been right to avoid karaoke night. The Breadstix patrons weren't content with just mangling ABBA. Before long she had heard worse versions of Queen, Michael Jackson, and Chumbawumba than she had ever imagined, all introduced enthusiastically by Oscar. The only minor distractions came in the form of the mediocre dinner finally arriving and even that slowly dwindled as time dragged on. She was almost praying for Rachel's turn by the time it actually came around.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Oscar started to announce shortly after Kurt and Rachel had left the table, "this is the performance you've all been waiting for. This is the one to beat! It's my pleasure to present to you our fourteen time winner, accompanied by Kurt Hummel, Miss Rachel Berry sing Dance With Me Tonight!"

"Hey, ladies and gentlemen," Kurt strutted out from behind a speaker as the beat of the song started, "we've got a special treat for you tonight. I'm going to call my friend Rachel up here to... to sing to you ladies."

"Rachel!" he jerked his head, beckoning, and Rachel stepped out from the other side of the stage. "Let's go girl!"

(Sung)"My name is Rachel, nice to meet you, can I tell ya baby?  
>Look around, there's a whole lot of pretty ladies,<br>but none like you. You shine so bright.  
>Yeah."<p>

Quinn shivered slightly. She could have sworn that Rachel had been staring straight at her. That was impossible though. There was no way she could have seen through the spotlights to where Quinn was. The brunette twirled across the stage to where Kurt was doing background vocals, skirt of her ludicrous skirt flaring slightly as she danced.

"I was wondering if you and me could spend a minute,  
>on the floor, up close, getting lost in it.<br>I won't give up without a fight"

The rhythm of the song was slightly slower, almost from a different era, but Quinn didn't recognize it as any of the songs that she heard at church functions or chastity balls. Rachel and Kurt's choreography was similar to what she was used to seeing there though.

Then the spinning started in earnest as the divas launched into the chorus together.

"I just want to, ooh hoo,  
>Oh oh baby,<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight.

So come on, ooh ooh,  
>Oh oh baby,<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight"

Kurt and Rachel whirled about the stage, microphone apparently forgotten. Their voices were powerful enough to be heard throughout the restaurant without the technology. Kurt pulled Rachel to him and let her spin away and with him in his slender black outfit and her in her hurricane of colors they looked like a scene from an old movie.

Finally they broke apart and it was Kurt's turn to sing.

"We're getting sweaty, hot and heavy, in the crowd now.  
>Loosen up and let your hands go down, down.<br>But go with it, girl. Yeah, just close your eyes.  
>Yeah.<p>

Feel the music moving through your body,  
>and looking at you I can tell you want me.<br>Don't stop, keep going til the morning light.  
>Yeah."<p>

The two started to sing in unison as Quinn watched, spellbound. It was just the voices and the dancing and it was so much of what she had been missing. The Trouble Tones still hadn't moved beyond basic practices. Quinn wanted more of what was on the stage, more of the finished product.

"When I saw you there,  
>sitting all alone in the dark,<br>acting like we didn't have to care.

I knew right then, that you'd be mine,  
>and we'd be dancing the whole damn night like."<p>

The divas pulled close together once before starting their frantic dance anew. Quinn was too busy staring to know if anyone else in the crowd was as impressed as she was. Rachel was playing the crowd, winking and smiling as she spun and sang. The colors of her jacket blurred as the steps got more intricate, only leaving the pink of her stockings constant. From her seat Quinn realized it was very easy to see the way the thin garment clung to Rachel's curves.

"Ooh hoo, oh oh baby,  
>I just want you to dance with me tonight.<p>

So come on, ooh hoo,  
>Oh oh, baby,<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight.

Break it down now huh."

The pair had ended side by side, each with an arm around their partner's shoulder. Both were visibly winded. They just swayed bouncily to the music as they continued.

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.  
>Come on, shake it like that.<br>Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.  
>Now bring it all back,<br>To dance with me tonight.

One more time, one more time,  
>Come on now.<p>

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.  
>Do your thing.<br>Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.  
>Everybody sing.<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight.

Yeah, one-two-three-four.

I just want to, ooh hoo,  
>Oh oh, baby,<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight."

Quinn could hear a few other voices joining in with the chorus. That bothered her. She didn't need anything distracting from Rachel's singing.

"Everybody, everybody, come on now.

Ooh hoo,  
>Everybody just close your eyes.<br>Ooh ooh hoo,  
>We can dance all through the night.<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight.

And everybody say, ooh hoo,  
>Girl just close your eyes.<br>Oh oh, baby,  
>We can dance all through the night.<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight.

So come on, ooh hoo,  
>Girl just close your eyes.<br>Come on darling,  
>We can dance all through the night.<br>I just want you to dance with me tonight."

As the music died into the background the sound of clapping hands filled the building. Quinn was too stunned to rise, to give the pair the standing ovation they deserved, but she clapped as well this time. Before she had time to process everything Rachel and Kurt had already dropped from the stage, heading for the table.

(Spoken) "You missed a step on the second chorus." Kurt quibbled.

"Well your vocalizations were a sixteenth of a beat off on the last one!" Rachel bickered in return.

"Well both of you were awesome up there," Sam said as the pair seated themselves. This close Quinn could see every detail of her best friend's face. Rachel's hair was stuck to her forehead, framing her face in an exquisite mess. Her cheeks were flushed and Quinn realized that it was the first time she had really seen the tint on Rachel's face not as the result of embarrassment or fear. There was a solitary bead of sweat trickling its way past an ear and Quinn just... wanted... to...

"Quinn," the blonde's name brought her back to awareness. She hadn't realized that she had been leaning in until she wobbled slightly on the edge of her chair. "and I won't be doing anything quite so complicated. Any last minute tips for us?" She just couldn't look away. It felt like Rachel's eyes, darkened by exertion, were pulling her in.

"It's really all about knowing your audience," Kurt explained, "the song's new enough that anyone of our age group should enjoy it."

"In addition," Quinn was more aware of Rachel's lips moving than any sound coming from them, "for most of the guests here tonight is about nostalgia. They want to go back to when they were singing and dancing, when they were young and in love" Rachel dancing was still very clearly burned into Quinn's memory.

Quinn slowly became aware of a very unwelcome, unfortunately familiar, heat growing in her stomach.

That was when she managed to yank her gaze over to Sam. She refused to spend the next several hours writhing in invisible agony, trying to figure out how to make the feeling stop. She needed to focus. She was about to have to sing, Oscar had already finished his spiel for the next competitor, and she didn't want to screw up. She didn't want to disappoint Rachel.

"Do you know any Colby Caillat?" Quinn shook her head, hand clenched by her side. If she let Rachel's fingers in again she knew she'd slip up. "Michael Buble?" Stereotypical harmless white guy with a guitar. He was on the approved listening list in the Fabray home. Quinn nodded this time. She didn't trust herself to speak. "Alright, great, somebody over at the sign-up jogged my memory and reminded me of this neat song they did together, 'Lucky.' It should be pretty easy cause it's got a guy part and a girl part and we don't have to worry so much about dancing."

"Good, Sam," Quinn said when she realized he was waiting for her, "We can sing that." She didn't know the song by name but she had to have heard it before. Even if she hadn't then the projector would give her the words. Besides, by then it should have been far too late to swap out songs. She was a bit distracted anyway trying to keep the damned heat from twisting tendrils through her body. Even if she wasn't looking at Rachel the girl was still right there next to her, breathing more heavily than Quinn thought was appropriate.

In a few short, eternal, minutes the blondes were climbing onto the stage themselves. Oscar was doing his very best to animate the crowd after the last contestant's disastrous performance of 'Staying Alive' but all he seemed to be managing was damage to Quinn's ear. The sound of the shouting man right next to the speakers was deafening.

"Are you ready?" Sam leaned over, barely audible.

"Yep." Quinn was running a list of instructions for the song. Don't try anything fancy. Keep it sweet. This was a new love on a first date sort of thing. Smile charmingly. Stay close together. A million little things would make their first official public presentation.

"I had fun tonight, Quinn."

"Me too." That was the scripted response. The day had been just as confusing as any other recent day for her.

"We should do this again some time."

"Definitely."

Then he kissed her.

It wasn't a long kiss, just a peck on the lips. It was even part of the script but Quinn's brain refused to process it. She stumbled out onto the stage behind Sam as Oscar announced them and the music started. The kiss was so much the same and it was so very much different.

(Sung)"Do you hear me? I'm talking to you,  
>across the water, across the deep blue ocean,<br>under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying."

It had been just like every time she had kissed Puck or Finn or any of her earlier sweethearts. It was what it was supposed to be, an act. She felt much more comfortable with Sam than with those other boys but the physical part was just the same. Normally though, that wouldn't distract her so bad. She almost missed her cue.

"Boy I hear you, in my dreams.  
>I feel you whisper, across the sea.<br>I keep you with me, in my heart.  
>You make it easier when life gets hard."<p>

But she had gained a different frame of reference. Quinn had felt Rachel's lips on her skin and her lips on Rachel's skin and the difference was astounding. The heat spread. Quinn couldn't help it, not when she was thinking about that same contact that had introduced her to it. It wrapped its way around everything, making her voice purr.

"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend."

Quinn immediately realized that the spotlights did nothing to block the singers' vision because her eyes jumped to Rachel. She could feel her cheeks coloring against her will as she kept singing with Sam.

"Lucky to have been where I have been.  
>Lucky to be coming home again."<p>

She wasn't in love with Rachel though! She wasn't coming home to her, hadn't ever been with her! It was just one unfortunate line in a song she hadn't even chosen!

"Oooh ooh ooh ooh ooh oooh ooh

"They don't know how long it takes,  
>waiting for love like this.<br>Every time we say goodbye,  
>I wish we had one more kiss.<p>

I'll wait for you.  
>I promise you.<br>I will.  
>I,"<p>

Rachel was beaming up at her. The brunette didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. Quinn assumed she had some overly-complicated interpretation about platonic love existing as well but Quinn couldn't use that. She had to work with the common explanation, the one everyone would see, the one that said she was quite literally in love with her best friend.

"I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend.  
>Lucky to have been where I have been.<br>Lucky to be coming home again.

Lucky we're in love in every way.  
>Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed.<br>Lucky to be coming home someday."

None of it was true though. She wasn't in love with Rachel. They had never slept together and Quinn had always been taught that that was the final ultimate expression of love. That was why she had screwed up so badly with Puck. She had slept with someone she couldn't be in love with. All she had exchanged with Rachel were chaste kisses and the point of chastity was to keep people from falling in love with the wrong person.

"And so I'm sailing, through the sea,  
>to an island, where we'll meet.<br>You hear the music fill the air.  
>I put a flower in your hair.<p>

Though the breezes through the trees,  
>move so pretty, you're all I see.<br>As the world keeps spinning round,  
>you hold me right here, right now."<p>

Quinn realized too late that she was still staring at Rachel. Despite Sam singing next to her, despite the arm he was slipping around her shoulders, she couldn't move her eyes. It wasn't fair. Rachel had it easy. Rachel didn't have to care what every other person in the world thought of her. Rachel could go up and embarrass herself secure in the knowledge that she knew what she meant. Quinn didn't have that luxury.

"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend.  
>Lucky to have been where I have been.<br>Lucky to be coming home again.

Lucky we're in love in every way.  
>Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed.<br>Lucky to be coming home someday.

Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh oooh ooh oooh ooh.

Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh oooh ooh oooh ooh ooh ooh oooh."

Quinn didn't take a bow to the scattered applause, didn't wait for Oscar to dismiss them. She just dropped to the floor before her blush ran out of control. She just knew that everyone had seen her. Everyone had to have noticed. If there was anyone else from the school or, heaven forbid, one of JBI's crew watching she was dead. This, plus the Karofsky incident, would give most of the school the wrong impression.

"Quinn!" Rachel grinned and the blonde knew her friend didn't understand the situation. "You were fantastic! There's still obviously some work to do before you get up to our level of ability but you were really quite good." Rachel only saw the performance, the notes hit and missed. That was how things got as you improved at them, more routine. Rachel had her interpretation and, beyond that, nothing else mattered for the brunette.

Which had to be why she greeted Quinn by pulling her into a hug.

The taller girl froze, mind locked. The embarrassment had done a great deal towards extinguishing the strange warmth but, as Rachel pressed against her, Quinn could feel it creeping back. This time around, though, Quinn didn't have anywhere she needed to go, anything she needed to focus on. People probably weren't watching any more, the next act had just started, and if they were...

Well, people were going to talk anyway.

"Thanks, Rae," Quinn mumbled, melting into her friend. She embraced the heat this time around, letting it consume the remains of her embarrassment. "You were both really good too." She realized she had been too dazed to compliment her friend earlier. "How does a fifteenth consecutive win sound to you?"

"Lovely. I've actually got the spot for the next trophy prepared in my room." The girls both sat down and Quinn scooted her chair closer to Rachel's. It was either the heat or the embarrassment, really an easy choice to make.

Given the opportunity to choose, a Fabray would pick agony over shame any day.

They passed the rest of the competition like that, pressed together with Rachel's head on Quinn's shoulder. Neither Sam nor Kurt seemed to mind much. All four of them just conversed about Glee, cheerleading, football, gossip, anything that came to mind. Speaking was easy. Rachel's presence inspired the frustrating warmth but it also seemed to keep it in check.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Oscar's voice boomed a few minutes after the last performance had finished, "Did we all have fun tonight?" Quinn's table called out 'Yes!' along with a few others. "Because our highly trained panel of serving staff judges have made a decision!" Rachel quickly hushed everyone else as the chubby man paused.

"The winners of this week's Golden Microphone are... In a surprising upset... Quinn Fabray and Samuel Evans!"

"What?" Rachel yelped, leaping to her feet. Kurt looked surprised but his expression didn't come anywhere near the confusion displayed on the brunette's face.

"I'm sorry, Miss Berry, but the rules are clear. Once inscribed you are no longer permitted to change your choice of song. Your switch to 'Dance With Me Tonight' disqualified you from the competition. We do, however, thank you for your spectacular performance. Let's have a hand for this week's winners!" Oscar actually looked a little relieved. It couldn't have been good for business to have one person consistently winning the special event.

"Wait," Quinn said. The spotlights swiveled again, illuminating Quinn and Sam, as Oscar passed a small microphone to a waiting staff member. "You came up with that routine on the fly?" Quinn couldn't imagine pulling that kind of footwork from nowhere. She slowly rose to her feet with Sam as Rachel sat down sulkily.

"No, of course not," the female diva snapped, "it was our backup plan." Rachel was pouting, arms crossed and eyes wide. Quinn felt the urge to help her, to comfort her friend, but she ignored it. Rachel was being unreasonable this time around. She wasn't in love with Rachel. It wasn't her job to take care of diva tantrums.

"That was your plan B?" Sam sounded awestruck, "what was Plan A?" The server came around to the table and passed Quinn a yellow plastic microphone with a sticker on it. Kurt snickered a bit and Quinn rotated the toy so she could see the writing printed on the paper.

-Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans.-  
>-Lucky.-<p>

She rolled her eyes and passed the toy to her date as Oscar finished up on stage. There was no way she'd be able to bring the trophy home. Kurt responded to Sam's question.

"We had planned a performance of Katy Perry's anthem to indecisive lovers, 'Hot 'n Cold. Maybe If we hadn't switched we..."

"What does that have to do with 'knowing your audience'?" Quinn cut in.

"Exactly why we had to change." Rachel spoke before Kurt could open his mouth. "It wouldn't have gone over nearly as well with those listening." The tiny girl sighed heavily, rubbing a temple with one hand. "Quinn, you need to go."

"Rachel, we both know you beat us." The blonde rolled her eyes, "Don't be like that."

"It's not that." Rachel shook her head. "You told me about your curfew a few days ago and it's twenty minutes until ten." Quinn fished out her phone to take a glance at the time. The brunette was right.

"Aww man, we still haven't even paid." Sam complained as Quinn started collecting her things. Arriving home late would be a monumentally bad idea after she had just been given some breathing room.

"Oh, you won't need to worry about that." Kurt said, retrieving his wallet. "Winning the competition gets you your meal free. Run along and we'll take care of the final details here."

Quinn and Sam were already halfway to the door when Rachel's voice caught up to them. "Quinn, wait!" the girl was following after them, trying to walk and shuck her coat at the same time. Quinn was already pressing herself against Sam in preparation for the temperature beyond the building doors.

"Make it quick, Rae," Quinn said. She kept her impatience from expressing itself in her tone.

"I saw you from the window when you were arriving and, well, would I be correct in assuming that you walked from your home?" The blonde nodded, waiting for her friend to continue. "It's freezing outside and I won't let you die of a cold. Take this. You can get it back to me later." Rachel forced the coat into into Quinn's hands.

"Thank you," the tall girl said sincerely. She had hated walking to the restaurant in just her dress and it would have only gotten colder over time.

"Just get home safely," Rachel insisted, "We'll talk by text later. Let me know when you get there, please." She slowly backed away, letting Quinn nod her assent as she walked through the door.

Quinn arrived at her house at nine fifty-nine, comfortably warm. She said goodbye to Sam with another tiny pointless kiss and let herself into the house. There hadn't been much point to worrying. Neither of her parents were home.

She fired off the requested text to Rachel, leaving the coat lying on the floor, and lay on her bed. As she let herself relax she tried hard not to think about how it had been Rachel, not Sam, who had kept track of time. It had been Rachel, not Sam, who had offered her a jacket and kept her warm.

Rachel had passed both of Quinn's tests with flying colors.


	19. Chapter 12: Roles

A/N 1: I own nothing!

A/N 2: Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 12: Roles

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Thursday morning Quinn Fabray sat, working up her nerves, outside Sue Sylvester's office. The coach had called her via Becky from government class fifteen minutes earlier, demanding a meeting. Quinn had no idea what Sylvester wanted to speak about, one of the risks run when you chose someone with Down's syndrome as your personal assistant, but she had a guess.

Santana wasn't there and, assuming she didn't show up, that meant they weren't going to be talking about the football team. Quinn had no idea what Sue had planned for the new coach and she was glad she wasn't involved. San could handle that on her own.

Rachel wasn't there either so it was unlikely Sylvester wanted to discuss new routines. The coach was crazy, not stupid, and she knew enough to keep up appearances. As long as Rachel held the co-captain spot she'd end up in any official squad planning sessions.

Quinn's solitary presence meant that Sue wanted a report on Glee or, more specifically, Rachel. Santana was busy with a different project and Rachel obviously couldn't be allowed into the loop. Quinn was the key player in the war on Glee club and she hadn't been brought in for a check-up since the first meeting. Barring some serious Sue Sylvester madness it was really the only possibility.

That was why Quinn had to work herself up. She didn't know how much Sue had gleaned on her own. The coach wasn't blind either. She had to have noticed something. Rachel was, after all, a member of the squad now. Quinn just hoped that it wasn't obvious how she had botched the job. The thing that Sue had surely been relying on, Quinn's hatred of Rachel, had evaporated without a trace.

Quinn needed Sue to not notice because she was going to have to make a stand for her new friend. She needed to make Rachel's transition to popularity permanent. The diva had her sycophants, the sheep-like student body of Mckinley would trail after anyone in a Cheerios skirt, but they were unreliable. They'd abandon Rachel as quickly as they had flocked to her. The girl needed Cheerio acceptance and, though Quinn had made some headway with Santana and Brittany, that wasn't going to come if Sylvester kept intentionally alienating her.

It was a slow but effective process. Most of the cheerleaders had resented 'Stubbles' from the moment she had joined the team. They had been trained to hate her before. When they saw her receiving extra praise, being excused from the more difficult exercises, being passed over for slushy duty it was no wonder that those feelings started to fester. That had to be why the rumors about Rachel and Quinn were slowly spreading. Santana and Brittany were actually sleeping together and, while everyone knew, nobody talked about it. They had the squad's protection. Rachel didn't.

So if Quinn wanted the rumors to stop she needed to actually integrate Rachel into the Cheerios. She needed to convince Sylvester to let Rachel stay. There was no way she could do that if Sue thought her motivations boiled down to 'I want to protect my best friend'. Quinn needed to be cold, clinical. She had to show Sue why keeping Rachel around would actually help the squad.

"I don't understand what you have against the arts, Miss Sylvester." The office door swung in, allowing a very frustrated Shelby Corcoran passage. Quinn suddenly understood why she had been waiting so long. She didn't think that Shelby had ever met Sue before. She didn't know what the Trouble Tone's coach had wanted but evidently the brick wall of Sylvester's insanity had won out over Shelby's patient perseverance.

"And I don't understand why you think you can pass yourself off as a teacher, Berry." Quinn clapped a hand over her mouth, laughing silently. The physical similarities between Rachel and her mother were striking. "I know that folklore dwarves have historically replaced children with changelings but here in America that's called kidnapping and it's against the law. You should probably take that back to its real home." Sue squinted at Beth, who was staying silent as ever, before sniffing the air. "Change it first though. I'm going to have to disinfect my office with fire." Quinn's hand dropped as her smile waned. Cracks about Beth weren't nearly as funny.

Shelby opened her mouth, eyes wide in what Quinn could only describe as exasperated disbelief, before turning away. It was an impressive display of self control. "Quinn," she placed her free hand on the blonde's shoulder, "I'm glad you're here. I'm going to ask you to schedule some extra time after practice tonight. There's something we ought to talk about. Alright?"

"I'll see what I can do." Quinn knew she'd end up making it. A private meeting with Shelby would be the closet thing she'd get to personal time with her daughter. That was something she'd have to take advantage of. Even then, with Shelby talking to her, Quinn was focused on Beth. She loved the way her baby smiled, the quiet way she took in her surroundings, how looking into her eyes was like seeing a reflection. She loved all of the little things she had been learning about Beth.

Shelby had been more than accommodating. Quinn realized that, in a way, she was lucky that the woman had failed with Rachel. Miss Corcoran knew what it felt like to miss out on that connection with a daughter. She wasn't going to force that on another person. Quinn had been given ample opportunities to help Beth, hold Beth, be with Beth and she was grateful.

"I appreciate it." Shelby shot one more glance at Sylvester before lifting her hand, "Good luck." Quinn returned Beth's wave as the glee coach walked away down the hallway.

"Come on in, Q," Sue sounded insanely pleased with herself. The cheerleader stood and entered the coach's office, a tiny chill running down her spine. It seemed like it had been ages since the last time she was in that room alone.

Nothing had changed. Trophies still lined the walls, securely displayed behind Sue's personal exercise equipment, and Quinn was still reminded of her home. Everything there was a permanent addition to the collection, something to be possessed, something that existed for others to see. The only difference, the blonde noticed as Sue closed the door behind her, was a blurry photo of the coach on a green background hanging between two trophy cases.

"Sit," Sue commanded and Quinn complied. The cheerleading coach was the one person at Mckinley who could dethrone her at a whim. That made her God, someone to be obeyed, someone to be petitioned only very cautiously. "Now that I've dealt with the latest attempt to taint the innocent minds of my Cheerios with singing and, more importantly, steal my cheerleading funds; we can get down to business."

"Was that what Miss Corcoran was here for?" Quinn could understand the motivation. Shelby already had two powerful voices with Kurt and Mercedes in the club. What she needed more than anything else were more bodies to back them up. It was the same way it had seemingly been with Jesse when the woman ran Vocal Adrenaline or the same way it always had been in the New Directions with Rachel and Finn. Sylvester held the keys to a source of bodies that weren't just available but also trained to perform. It was a logical first move for someone who didn't know the coach.

"Yes, just like sweater-vest before her the good mother Corcoran thought that I'd willingly give support to 'the arts' if I was asked nicely enough." Sue circled the table to recline in her chair. "I have no problem with children crying about their imaginary feelings on their own time, watching's actually a bit of a hobby for me, but I draw the line when we the people are forced to subsidize it. Why should we pay for a substandard production of Hamlet when you can see just as much blood starting an Internet forum fight between teams Edward and Jacob?"

"And," Quinn paused, thinking things through. The Trouble Tones needed members. Shelby had been recruiting with an almost religious zeal but had only managed to bring in one new person. If the door were unlocked Quinn knew she could coerce, command, or drag enough of the Cheerios to the club to ensure its survival. The trouble was going through Sue to do it. "What did you say?" It was a stalling question. Quinn still hadn't made a decision.

"I told her that if she took a single penny of funding from the Cheerios' sacred coffers I would make King Richard the Lionhearted's little-known fourth crusade on Russia look civil by comparison." Quinn was fairly certain she could convince her teacher. The Trouble Tones wouldn't be taking money from Sue and she had stood up to the mad coach before when she had sound reasoning. She'd even be able to test the waters a little bit, see if it would be safe to make her push for Rachel as well.

"Well, Miss Sylvester," Quinn kept tones of utmost respect in her voice, "that's something you don't need to worry about."

"What are you talking about, Fabray?" Sue's eyes narrowed. "Shelly said that she needed my cheerleaders for funding. Even though you did go behind my back to join up I find it highly unlikely that you know more than her." Quinn didn't flinch. Despite a few similarities things were different dealing with Sue than with Russell. The coach didn't want to see cowering submission like he did. She'd just take it as permission to attack.

"She needs us to qualify, Miss Sylvester." If one was going to stand up to Sue they had to stay firm. Quinn was one of the very few people who realized that. "As you alerted Mr. Schue last year, glee clubs need a minimum of twelve members to compete. We have five. The Cheerios are trained dancers; you don't let anyone who isn't there or can't make it there long. Miss Corcoran was trying to tap in to an available resource," Quinn inhaled deeply, more for presentation than anything else, "but the Trouble Tones are privately funded."

"I don't see what difficult notes have to do with Streisand stealing my money."

"The 'Trouble Tones' is the name of the new show choir." Quinn only just suppressed a sarcastic note in her voice. If the Trouble Tones had been the only thing she needed from Sue she might have let it slip but it wasn't. Rachel's social future was also on the line.

"Hmmm," Sue maintained her suspicious gaze, "and is there a reason I should care about any of this? At the end of the day Miss Trouble's still just trying to blur social lines and I was sick of that before Schuester started. Any ecosystem, from the frozen Arctic to the considerably less hospitable hallways of your average high school, needs a clearly defined food chain."

"And you won't be getting rid of that," Quinn needed to shift her position slowly from curiosity to advocation. Sue didn't seem remarkably upset about her participation in the Trouble Tones. The blonde just assumed that loyalty to the Cheerios surpassed all else in the coach's mind. That would be why she was expecting Rachel to be so devastated by her fall. The ejection from such an important organization, plus the loss of all popularity, must have seemed like a surefire combination to Sue. "Letting us join the Trouble Tones will make us a minimum sixty-six percent of the club. That's not blurring the lines, Miss Sylvester. It's another club safely under your thumb."

"And, just think," Quinn continued, not giving Sue a chance to interrupt, "When we beat the New Directions at Sectionals they'll be disbanded. All that money has to go somewhere." That had to work. As long as Shelby stayed in Lima helping her keep her job was the best thing Quinn could do for Beth.

"You'll beat Mr. Schue, destroy the New Directions, and strengthen your position at the top," and, more importantly, she wouldn't have to destroy Rachel to do it. Quinn realized that her coach was capable of casting the diva out immediately, freed from the necessity of keeping her lifted, but they still hadn't come to that topic.

Sue mulled quietly, thumbing through a few pages in a journal on her desk. As her coach donned a pair of reading glasses and set herself to writing on the first empty page Quinn thanked God that she was used to Sylvester's insanity. She sat quietly, somewhere between boredom and prayer as she waited. She hadn't gotten to where she was without developing patience.

"How much of this has to do with the baby?" Sue asked without looking up, jolting Quinn to awareness. It was a voice she hadn't heard from the woman before. Sue wasn't joking, mocking, insulting, scheming, plotting, or even complaining. She just sounded serious.

It was actually a little scary.

"All of it," Quinn answered. Honesty seemed like the best approach and it usually was when someone had already cut through all other pretense. Sue clearly already knew the answer. She was just confirming Quinn's willingness to cooperate. It didn't mean that Quinn had to go into detail, Sue wouldn't care, but the basic truth might help to calm some of the coach's paranoia.

"You make some good points, Q," Sue jabbed a final period down on the page before her, "assuming your raging motherly hormones haven't turned you traitor." The woman snapped the book shut, glancing up through her glasses at the cheerleader. "I'll review the hidden microphone logs and, if all of this is confirmed, I'll consider an alliance with Sally."

Quinn didn't say anything, just waited quietly. Encouraging the coach would seem overenthusiastic; discouraging her would be, of course, counterproductive. The subject felt like it had been closed but the blonde knew she couldn't move on to the next one, to Rachel, either. Sylvester had seen straight through to the real cause of Quinn's interest in the Trouble Tones and, if she did the same with Rachel, there was a chance the ruthless coach would just cut both of them.

"Of course, none of this has anything to do with the reason I've called you here today," Sue said after a lengthy period of time. Quinn had learned, over her months of squad membership, not to worry about missing classes or time in general while in Sylvester's office. If you were on an errand for the Cheerios' the coach would arrange everything with your other teachers. "You've been up to your eyes in Berry juice the last two weeks and I haven't heard a peep. It's report time, Fabray."

"R has progressed excellently, Miss Sylvester," Quinn fought to keep her breathing under control. It wasn't the right time to panic. If she decided it was too much of a risk she could still back out and try another day. The most important thing was composure. "Her prior training lets her pick up routines incredibly quickly and, well," she spun a little bit of aggravation into her tone, "that 'take charge' personality of hers has been helping her as co-captain."

"I don't care about her personal progress, Fabray," Sue rolled her eyes, "It's the plan! Tell me how the plan's coming along! Is our little berry bush going to give fruit or not? Has she gotten drunk on popularity yet? Will she choose us over her precious show tunes?"

Quinn considered the questions carefully. Rachel certainly enjoyed the attention; anyone who knew the girl could have guessed that that would happen. She wasn't loyal to the Cheerios, though, just to Quinn and, maybe, Santana and Brittany. The blonde couldn't blame her friend, not after so many years of bad blood and the rest of the squad's obstinate refusal to accept her. Quinn could easily see Rachel bouncing back to Glee without many glances back.

That, Quinn realized, was what she needed. Sue's first love was the squad but it would be nearly impossible to convince her that Rachel was too good to miss. It was possible, however, to appeal to the coach's second obsession. If Sue thought the Glee club was going to escape intact then she'd be forced to change plans or, with Quinn's guidance, at least tactics.

"Frankly, Miss Sylvester," Quinn spoke slowly, trying to display her thoughtfulness, "No. I really don't." She breathed deeply, preparing herself, to give her coach a space to reply.

Sue's reaction was slow. One hand slowly raised to take the glasses from her face. "Explain," she said, face as unreadable as ever. That was one of the most difficult things about the coach for Quinn. The captain was able to recognize general motivations, reactions, and sometimes entire memorized rants with time but it was nearly impossible to know what the woman was thinking in the moment. "This was a simple job, Q. All you had to do was get the most desperate girl in the entire school to accept popularity. What could you have possibly messed up? Are you really that incompetent? Am I going to have to send you to the ginger to teach you how to relate to other human beings?"

"Please," Quinn didn't let the insults shake her. She didn't just have to stand her ground now; she had to go on the offensive. "Like you can really expect Berry's worst enemy to make her feel comfortable when you're doing everything you can to keep her from being accepted." It was another difference between the coach and Russell. Quinn's father didn't take advice. You could get to Sue if you knew what you were doing.

"There's no way she's going to leave Glee behind if every other Cheerio is whispering rumors behind her back," and behind Quinn's back as well. Regardless of what people believed about her relationship with Rachel it was well known that the blonde co-captain had taken on the role of protector for her brunette companion. "The New Directions are her family. There's no way she's going to choose just me over them. She barely likes me." It was only a slight twist of the truth. Rachel had barely begun to like her but, judging by the girl's consistent concerned affection, she liked Quinn more than a little.

Sue kept staring as she spoke, "Overcoming all of that was part of your assignment, Q. I need leaders I can rely on. If she's not making friends then I need you to make her friends."

"Directly against everything you're doing, Miss Sylvester?" Quinn didn't let Sue get another word in, continuing as the woman opened her mouth. This was the dangerous part. "Making her co-captain straight away, letting her rest during training, all the preferential treatment is making the other girls hate her more than they did before."

"That's part of the plan, Fabray. I can't have a Cheerio uprising when we send her hurtling back to the pit we pulled her out of."

"Then maybe you need to rethink your plan," Quinn snapped defiantly, "because I'm good, Miss Sylvester, but I can't work miracles." It was a different sort of defiance than the kind Rachel had shown on the field days earlier. That had been in front of the squad, where only someone with the protection Sue was obliged to give Rachel could get away with it. Quinn wasn't humiliating Sue. She could get away with it.

"I can force the other Cheerios to play nice until the world ends but she'll be able to tell the difference. As long as you keep her from being accepted Glee will always be home for her." Quinn ignored the urge to rise from her seat as she continued her protest. She wasn't berating Sue, couldn't act like she was defending Rachel. The only thing Sue would accept was that her captain was resisting unfair conditions. "When you try to make her choose between home and a group of girls who barely like her where do you think she's going to go? You have to actually let her in or we're just wasting time."

"As I explained," Sue's face was still rigid, revealing nothing, but Quinn thought she heard some amusement there. It was the same way the coach had sounded when Quinn had blackmailed her into giving the Glee club yearbook pages. That was probably a good thing. "We can't do that. I don't want her worming her way into the hearts of my best Cheerios. I'd like to keep the squad intact when we cut her."

"Or you could just not cut her." Sue's eyes narrowed and Quinn thought, for a moment, that she had failed. She had spoken a little too quickly, let just a smidgen of hope filter into her voice. Sue had to have noticed something.

But then the woman spoke, "What are you talking about Fabray? That's the entire point of the plan," and Quinn found that she could breathe again.

"From what I understood, Miss Sylvester," the blonde thought she did an excellent job of keeping the tremor out of her voice, "the point of the plan was to get rid of the New Directions. That's not going to happen if you get rid of Berry and, if you think otherwise, you might as well just cut us both right now." Quinn thought that would be just. If she had brought her best friend's two minutes of fame to a premature end then at least she'd fall with her. With recent developments there was actually a chance for her to survive the backlash from her father as well.

Sue was quiet, again, for a lot longer than Quinn was comfortable with. Those icy blue eyes didn't move, didn't stop watching Quinn for so much as a second. The blonde wasn't even sure if her coach was blinking.

"This is extra weight on your back, Fabray." Quinn held back the smile that threatened to break loose. She wasn't sure how she did it when every molecule of her being felt like sighing in relaxation but she did. Sue couldn't have been more mistaken. Any weight associated with Rachel had just disappeared, "If you want to keep R around so badly then fine. Freakishly short people need cheerleaders too. But if she's going to be a Cheerio then she's going to have to start acting like one."

Quinn didn't speak because she knew that she couldn't stop herself from sounding happy. In Sue's eyes she had to look exasperated, frustrated that she was going to have to take care of Rachel for even longer, and she couldn't do that with words. Apparently sullen silence would have to be enough.

"Make sure the dwarf's in top form by the time competitions arrive. If this messes up my plans or, God forbid, my Cheerios I will hold you personally responsible. Now get out of my office. Your replacement mother threw off my schedule and ben Israel should be waiting outside." Quinn nearly bounced from the room, glad that she could finally smile as she turned away from her coach. She brushed past Jewfro without a word, lost in her own warm happy glow. It didn't matter that she couldn't tell Rachel what had happened, that the other girl would never know.

Quinn had done something good.

She was surprised by how nice that felt.


	20. Interlude 6: Fabray's Latest Flame

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy. Evita belongs to... Not me, no idea.

A/N 2: The song is based off of 'Peron's Latest Flame' from the Musical/Movie Evita.

A/N 3: Thanks to: TeirAnazazi for reviewing once again. Niekie, Cloo-ykz, and Tattsmagee for following. Amorin for following. I'd also like to re-thank anyone who's done any of those things in the past. I'll be better about recognizing future contributions.

A/N 4: Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.

Interlude 12.5: Fabray's Latest Flame

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Jacob ben Israel quivered, trying valiantly not to melt into a puddle of goo as Sue Sylvester stared him down. His precious laptop was cradled in his arms, open to a video file. Sue grinned. It was always nice to have someone to play with.

"You have ten minutes, Esau. Explain to me why the hell you thought you could demand a meeting." Jacob usually knew better, stayed nicely on his leash, but Sue didn't mind the few times he had snapped free. The collaring was always more enjoyable than the having anyway.

"I've put t-together a message from the football team and a-a-a-a few members of the Cheerios," the boy stammered out, "I-I-I thought I should run it by you before posting it to my blog." Without another word Jacob hit the play button on his computer and Sue had to lean in to see, rolling her eyes. The music was clearly ripped straight from some soundtrack somewhere, the mouth-breathers in Mckinley's band barely knew how to play. What was even worse, though, was the terribly edited absurdly autotuned way the 'lyrics' had been cobbled together. It was almost as bad as watching the New Directions perform. Jacob was walking across the football field, autotuned voice 'singing' at the camera.

(Autotuned)"On the practice fields,  
>of the Cheerios,<br>I've detected some who oppose,"

A line of Cheerios appeared, faces blurred messily for anonymity. The screen was split in two. Jacob on one half, proffering his mic towards the line of Cheerios on the other. "Precisely" they chimed.

(Jacob)"Our heroine's style."

(Cheerios)"We're glad you noticed."

(Jacob)"The pyramids,  
>and the tumbling team."<p>

(Cheerios)"Give her an inch"

(Jacob)"Don't harbor the slightest gleam,  
>of respect for the girl."<p>

(Cheerios)"Such a shame she wandered,  
>into our social circle.<br>How unfortunate this person,  
>has forced us to be blunt.<p>

No we wouldn't mind,  
>her cheering along with us,<br>but we want her in the bleachers  
>not in front."<p>

Sue's lips pressed together. It looked like Q had been right after all. Maybe she had been a little too forceful trying to squish the berry. Or maybe the Cheerios involved in the video, there were only six of them, were just idiots. She'd have to pry identities out of Israel later.

(Jacob)"Could there be,  
>in our football team,<br>a hate for what seems to be."

A much larger number of boys In football jerseys appeared on Jacob's other side. "Exactly!" they shouted.

(Jacob)"Fabray's latest flame?"

(Jocks)"You said it brother!"

(Jacob)"Should you wish,  
>to cause great distress,<br>find one of the very best,  
>and mention her name."<p>

(Jocks)"That isn't funny!

Fabray is a fool, breaking every taboo,  
>bringing a Gleek to the popular crew.<br>And it's Man Hands! The last straw!

Her only good parts are between her thighs.  
>She should stare at the ceiling, not reach for the skies.<br>Or they'll both be out the door.

The evidence suggests,  
>she has other interests!<p>

If it's her who's using Quinn,  
>she's exceptionally dim!<p>

Bitch!"

Sue smirked. She had noticed Quinn's hidden tendencies years ago, just after Brittany had commented on it. It was part of what made the girl such a damned good cheerleader. All those repressed emotions had to come out somewhere. Aside from that Sue couldn't have cared less if her head cheerleader preferred bushes or sticks.

(Cheerios)"We have allowed ourselves to slip.  
>We have completely lost our grip!<br>We have declined to an all time low!  
>The smurf has become a Cheerio."<p>

Berry appeared on the screen, below Jacob, actually singing into a microphone. It was an ancient clip from Myspace, one that Sue herself had ordered buried under a rain of hateful comments a little less than two years before. It had been the first time she had ever pegged the tiny brunette as a potential threat.

(Rachel)"I'm only a talented singer, I'm sure that will show,  
>but, speaking as one of the students, I want you to know.<p>

I am tired of,  
>the decline of,<br>McKinley,  
>with no sign of,<br>a faculty that will teach us the way we deserve."

(Jocks)"It's no crime for Cheerios to do what they need,  
>as long as they're discreet and they keep us all pleased.<br>We in no way, disregard.

But once they allow, a bit on the side,  
>to move to the top where she's not qualified,<br>We are forced to, mark their cards.

Quinn should get into her head!  
>She should not get out of bed!<p>

She should know that she's been raised!  
>Not to be loud but to be laid!<p>

Slut!"

The Jacob and Rachel frames merged together into him interviewing her in full Cheerio uniform, trailing her and a few other girls across the field.

(Jacob)"This has really been your year, Miss Berry.  
>Tell us where you go from here, Miss Berry.<br>Will you try out for this year's school play?  
>Whom did you sleep-dine! with yesterday?"<p>

(Rachel)"Acting is limiting, the role's not mine,  
>and right now I don't have time."<p>

(Jacob)"Is there a reason that you'll quit?  
>Is this because of your involvement with captain Fabray?"<p>

The camera spun around jerkily before focusing in on the faces of Santana and Brittany.

(Santana)"Fucking good-bye."

(Brittany)"And thank you!"

The camera went dark as a tanned fist collided with it.

(Jocks)"She won't be kept happy by her nights on the tiles.  
>She says it means nothing but that isn't her style.<br>So we'll kick her back to Glee.

Quinn should get into her head!  
>She should not get out of bed!<p>

She should know that she's been raised,  
>not to be loud but to be laid!<p>

The evidence suggests!  
>She has other interests!<p>

If it's her who's using Quinn,  
>she's exceptionally dim!"<p>

The jocks faded out as well, leaving behind only the uniformed girls.

(Cheerios)"Things have reached a pretty pass,  
>when someone pretty lower class,<br>obnoxious, annoying, uninspired,  
>can be respected and admired."<p>

The entire screen faded to black and Jacob closed the laptop slowly. "So, c-can I run the story?"

"No," Sue didn't even have to think about the question. The video file had been clearly designed to cause massive harm to Berry. Jacob had even gone to the trouble of bearing it into a crude approximation of a musical number to get to her better. Sue couldn't have that.

"I, well, ok," Jacob said miserably. "I'll delete the file." The coach enjoyed for a moment the thought of what was undoubtedly hours of work disappearing but...

"No," Sylvester's lips curved upward, "don't do that either." She couldn't have Berry damaged yet, not while Fabray was still making her try.

But now she had options.


	21. Chapter 13: Solos

A/N 1: I own nothing. I am still a really slow updater, my apologies.

A/N 2: Thanks to SMfirefly and smallztwp for favoriting; TeirAnazazi and Shadowcub for reviewing; and theagonyofantigone for favoriting and following.

A/N 3: Reviews, suggestions, comments, and concerns are all welcome. If you contact me via PM I will eventually respond to you.

Chapter 13: Solos

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" Quinn spun, strutted, and shuffled alongside Kurt and Mercedes, dancing to the rudimentary tune sounding from Shelby's piano. Brad, the pianist, wasn't available to them. He was apparently New Directions property.

"Daniel, you missed a step!" Shelby broke a string of chanted instructions to call out to the five students on stage, "Again!" Without time for the students to complain the glee coach started hammering away at the piano anew. They had finished vocal exercises almost thirty minutes before and even athletic Quinn was starting to feel a few drops of sweat run down her back. Shelby was brutal. The routine they were practicing wasn't even going to be used and they still weren't going to move on until each and every member could perform it by memory.

Quinn loved it.

The Trouble Tones were rapidly becoming the best part of Quinn's school schedule. She had originally joined for her tiny daughter, who sat burbling happily in a crib next to the piano, but she was finding more and more reasons to enjoy the club in its own right. The Trouble Tones offered the joy of performance of the New Directions, without the backbiting politics, and the discipline of the Cheerios without Sylvester's insanity. Quinn couldn't have asked for anything more.

None of which was to say that Beth wasn't still important. Even as Quinn flew across the stage she never took her eyes off the baby. The cheerleader just wasn't as worried as she had been before. Shelby was slowly gaining Quinn's confidence, showing that she really could be a good mother if she tried. Miss Corcoran's failure with Rachel only seemed to motivate her to get it right this time around. She was prepared for the, surprisingly infrequent, times when Beth cried with bottles and diapers and anything else the little girl could have possibly wanted lined up atop the piano. It usually only took a second for her to arrive.

"Good, very good," the club started to come together in formation as Shelby neared the end of the tune. Quinn had committed the routine to memory by the fourth repetition but this time nobody, not even the new boy, missed a step. "Bring it all together and smile on the big finish..." Shelby chanted rhythmically, "Perfect!" The students, posed around each other, smiling almost manically out at their teacher.

"Take a break," Shelby shouted, "We've got an announcement and then we'll finish up." Mercedes and Sugar both flopped dramatically to the ground, breathing heavily and dangling their legs over the edge of the stage; Kurt and Dan compared dance steps, the freshman had mostly joined because he thought dancing was a good way to 'get chicks;' but Quinn went where she always went. She went to Beth.

Quinn's time in the theatre with the Trouble Tones, no matter how much she was starting to enjoy it for other reasons, was sacred. She didn't let herself worry about Russell. She didn't try to think up the next step of dealing with Sue. She didn't even let herself text Rachel; the other girl would be too busy in her own glee club to respond anyway. When Quinn was with Beth all she wanted to think about was Beth. She dangled an arm over an edge of the crib, smiling as her daughter took her finger in a tiny hand.

Sometimes Quinn worried about how quiet her baby was. She knew that she hardly saw Beth, that it was possible that she was noisier in the familiar environment of her home, but she had only heard her cry twice. Once because Shelby, in frustration, had pounded down on the piano keys and the other, the first time, because she had fallen after lifting herself to the side of the crib.

That had been the only time Quinn had beaten Shelby to Beth's side. She could still remember seeing the perfect little face scrunched up with tears and even the memory itself was triggering a bit of an adrenaline rush for Quinn. She had been so concerned and in such a hurry to make sure her baby was ok that she had practically knocked over Sugar. It had taken a good ten minutes to stroke the girl's ego to the point where she'd practice again.

Now Beth was happy, though, and Sugar seemed to have accepted that she wasn't going to be queen of the club; Kurt and Mercedes kept most of their competitive bickering between themselves; and Quinn was pretty sure that more members were on the way. She knew she couldn't expect more from a glee club. Looking into the tiny hazel mirrors of Beth's eyes, Quinn sighed in contentment.

"We've got some important news so listen up," Shelby said. A few of the other students moved closer to the coach but Quinn was near enough that all she had to do was look up. "Principal Figgins finally got me a date for the school Invitationals." The older woman looked at each student in turn, making sure she had their attention. "On Saturday, October fifth, three weeks and two days from now, Mckinley High's going to see what a real show choir looks like." Shelby smiled confidently.

"That means we're going to have to start practicing actual routines." Beth moved her tiny hands up on Quinn's arm as her adoptive mother talked. It was odd how the insistent whimper that came from the baby's mouth was almost enough to blot out all other sound. "So, I've been working on a few possible setlists." Quinn didn't pick her baby up, even though it almost killed her to sit there and listen to the girl whine. If she had had permission to take Beth in her arms she probably never would have put her down.

"I don't know how they did it in the New Directions but I want to remind you all that this isn't a democracy." Quinn could hear familiar tones in Shelby's voice. It sounded like Rachel when she was trying to be firm and put her foot down only... tempered by experience. Shelby really did expect to be obeyed. "We're not going to be voting or pulling names out of a hat or even doing tryouts. I, thinking about what's best for all of us, am going to make choices." Even from her awkward vantage point Quinn could see Shelby staring down Kurt and Mercedes.

"That's why I've asked you all to stay a bit longer tonight. I'd like to talk to each of you in turn about some of the ideas I have already." The coach smirked, a little bit smugly. "Just because I'll be making the decisions doesn't mean I don't want to hear what you have to say." Beth tugged at Quinn's arm again, a little bit more forcefully, and the cheerleader caved. She gathered the tiny body into her arms, glad when Shelby only glanced in her direction.

"We're going to start with Sugar first, then Dan, Mercedes, Kurt, and we'll end with you, Quinn." Quinn recognized what Shelby was doing. It was clearly written in the woman's familiar, warm, brown eyes. Quinn wanted more time with Beth. She didn't think even she was capable of hiding that. Shelby was willing to give it to her. "Miss Motta, if you'd follow me backstage please." Sugar slunk behind the curtains after Miss Corcoran and Quinn exhaled, letting Beth swallow up all of her attention.

Quinn didn't know how she was supposed to feel. Holding Beth wasn't anything like holding Finn or Puck or Sam or even Rachel. With other adults or, at least, people her age there was an element of sharing involved. When she embraced Puck it had always felt a little like she was wrestling for control. Finn had always quietly accepted her dominance. Quinn didn't have much experience with Sam but she imagined that, by the time she was done, he would end up a lot like Finn. Every time she hugged Rachel it felt like they were melting into each other. With Beth, though, there wasn't any interaction. Quinn quite literally held the tiny girl's entire life in her arms.

Which made it interesting that Beth owned Quinn so completely in that moment.

The young mother closed her eyes for a second, breathing in deeply as she simply felt the heat produced by her daughter's body. She began to sway slightly, what little she could remember  
>from elementary school health class told her that babies liked that, and opened her eyes to a giggling smile. Quinn lost herself in those tiny hazel eyes, in the pearly whiteness of new teeth, but it was ok because she was so clearly written there already. Every feature on Beth's face called out as if to say, "I'm yours! Don't you recognize me?"<p>

Quinn wondered if her parents had ever felt the same way. Had Russell ever looked down at a little baby Quinn and recognized, perhaps, a glint of his same determination? Had his heart ever melted when his baby reached up and tugged curiously at his hair? If he had then what had gone wrong? How had things spiralled out of control the way they had? How could you ever just throw away someone when they had held your soul in their hands?

Quinn shivered. She was not her father. She hadn't thrown Beth away; she had let her go. The blonde girl breathed deeply, fighting the pressure in her chest that told her she was close to irrational tears. It was the best thing she could have done for her baby. Shelby was an adult, far more capable of providing for Beth than Finn or Puck or Quinn herself. Even though Shelby had made the awful mistake of coming back to Lima Quinn couldn't resent it anymore, not when she had Beth cradled in her arms. She leaned down, closing her eyes again as she nuzzled against the baby girl. When Beth let out a delighted laugh Quinn smiled even as a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

She wondered if Beth could recognize her too.

"She's a lovely baby," the outside world intruded on Quinn's awareness in the form of Mercedes, speaking quietly for once. Quinn wanted to respond snippily, to tell Mercedes to just go away so she could get back to Beth, but she didn't. The Trouble Tones needed unity, needed it so Shelby could keep her job so Beth would be taken care of, so she bit her tongue. "Reminds me a lot of when my twin brothers were born. Holding them felt pretty great."

Quinn nodded,"Yeah," even though Mercedes couldn't have possibly understood. Holding a sibling wasn't anything like holding a life that was so literally a part of you that separating hurt. The black girl was trying, though, and that was what was important. It wasn't her fault that she had nothing near the frame of reference necessary to relate. "Yeah, she really is."

"Look, Quinn," Mercedes said after a few seconds of silence, "I wanted to apologize for how I treated you when you showed up at tryouts." If the blonde had been paying more than halfhearted attention to the diva she might have raised an eyebrow. She hadn't been expecting an apology from Mercedes. She certainly didn't think she deserved one. "I thought you were just here as Sylvester's spy again and that that meant we were going to have to go through all the same shit we did last year. You just quitting the NDs sorta set off alarm bells in everyone's heads." Mercedes was obviously being polite. The alarm bells she was talking about were slushies and swirlies.

"You got a good reason for being here though," the diva motioned towards Beth, "even if you aren't here for the club I don't think you're going to stab us in the back."

"Thanks," Quinn said simply as Beth captured one of her fingers, moving it to her mouth. She would have given more of a response but the baby started gnawing gently and keeping the little girl from stealing all her attention was hard enough when she was just laying there quietly.

Mercedes looked like she did understand that, though, because she kept talking. "I also wanted to invite you to my house Sunday. All of us glee girls have agreed to a nice, noncompetitive, slumber party and my folks have been asking after 'that sweet white girl.'"

"You really think that Sugar and Rachel are going to get along?" Quinn questioned, adjusting Beth in her arms. Sugar was obnoxious on her best days and, as far as Quinn was aware, Rachel wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Trouble Tones. The blonde was pretty sure the only thing keeping her on the tiny diva's good list was the situation with Beth.

"It's the glee girls, not the glee clubs," Mercedes explained. "We've all agreed to leave teams out of it." Quinn almost rolled her eyes, there was absolutely no way Rachel was going to stick to that promise, but if Mercedes was trying to be polite then so could she. "We'll sing, dance a bit, do hair, gossip, maybe get in a few pillow fights, normal slumber party stuff. It'll be fun." Mercedes shrugged. She had done her part, apologized, extended the invitation, "You in?" but Quinn could see she didn't really care about the answer.

She took some time to think about it anyway, to think about it and still let part of her subconscious wrap itself around Beth. It wouldn't be a hard thing to get permission, even without the newly loosened rules. Mercedes' family went to a different church than the Fabrays but they were still good, respected, members of the community. Russell also didn't know that the Jones had taken Quinn in after she had left Puck's house. So long as she didn't mention that Rachel was also going to be there Quinn wouldn't have any problems.

So the question was really more one of whether or not she wanted to go. Despite Mercedes' assurances Quinn didn't believe at all that everything would stay peaceful. Maybe she could have gotten along with Tina and Brittany on her own but, when you got personalities the size of Santana's, Mercedes', Rachel's, and Sugar's in a room together, sparks were bound to fly. Quinn might have enjoyed seeing the girls tear each other apart the year before but the prospect no longer excited her.

Rachel would probably be happy to see her though. It was possible that, by being present, she could keep the tiny singer on her best behavior. Brittany could do the same for Santana, Mercedes obviously wouldn't want a fight breaking out in her own house, and that only left Sugar as a problem-causer. Quinn didn't think she'd do too much when the other six girls were getting along though.

"Sounds great," the blonde agreed, smiling. It would be better than spending a typical Sunday evening in the Fabray home at the least. Listening to Russell discourse on the scriptures might have been someone's definition of fun but it wasn't Quinn's. Rachel and Brittany would both be happy to see her and Quinn knew from experience that the Jones were excellent hosts. She'd be able to find something to enjoy.

"Alright," Mercedes smiled back at Quinn, "we'll all be waiting for you." The cheerleader shifted Beth in her arms again. The weight was starting to get uncomfortable but the last thing she wanted was to put the girl back down. "You can pretty much show up when you want. I wouldn't mind getting out of the house a little early with a daddy like yours." Quinn stopped swaying and started bouncing Beth gently in an effort to readjust the weight.

"Is there anything I need to bring?" She asked. Slumber party packing was usually pretty simple, bedclothes, sleeping bag, a pillow, but she didn't want to be left out of anything extra the other girls were doing.

"All the usual stuff," Mercedes confirmed, "and I thought it might be nice if everyone brought along some of their favorite music." Despite Quinn's attentions, Beth started to squirm anxiously in her arms. The cheerleader's focus was immediately stolen from the upbeat tones of Mercedes' voice to the slight, twisting, frown marring her daughter's face. Quinn only dimly heard Mercedes outline how allegedly fun it would be to get a better idea of their friend's tastes in music. It all just seemed far away and unimportant when compared to the frowning baby in Quinn's arms.

After the few seconds it took for Quinn's mind to finish reeling she gave the baby what she imagined was the standard 'Mother's once over.' Beth didn't have any visible injuries, her diaper was still fine, her temperature was normal, and when Quinn lifted a finger to her mouth the tiny girl batted it away instead of sucking it in so she probably wasn't hungry. The only thing Quinn could think of to explain the slowly building sniffles was that she had bored Beth.

That was a painful realization. Quinn actually ignored Mercedes as the diva rolled her eyes and walked off, disappearing behind the curtains. Trying to recapture her baby's attention was the only important thing in Quinn's world. She didn't know what she was expecting, trying to keep a baby that hadn't even turned one entertained was all but impossible, but Quinn couldn't help it. Even as the rational part of her brain reasoned that she was being emotional, overreacting, there was another part of her spiralling wildly. The fact that her mere presence, that the connection between mother and daughter, wasn't enough to keep Beth happy hurt on a primal level.

After several more minutes of futile effort Quinn reluctantly placed Beth back in her crib. She sank down slowly to her knees so she could watch the baby crawl busily from toy to toy. It wasn't what Quinn wanted, all she wanted was to hug the little girl tight to her and never let go, but Beth wasn't an object that she could force her will on. She was a person with, simple, wants and needs of her own. Quinn had to respect that.

So, even though it sucked, even though it undeniably hurt that Quinn's own daughter had been squirming to try and escape her loving embrace, Quinn knelt quietly by the side of the crib. She watched the other Trouble Tones chat, laugh, dance, and sing as Mercedes eventually emerged from backstage and Kurt entered. She waited patiently for the moment when Beth's attentions would turn back to her. Quinn scarcely noticed herself nodding off, face pressing against the mesh of the crib wall as she slipped into half-sleep.

"Quinn, Quinn," it wasn't Beth that roused the blonde girl from her muzzy slumber. Instead, Shelby's voice and hand on her shoulder brought Quinn back from sleep that had never even reached the point of dreams. "It's your turn." Quinn stretched lazily, rubbing at the imprinted pattern on the skin of her cheek. She had never realized exactly how exhausted she had felt, though she could understand in hindsight. A confrontation with Sue, the normal stresses of school, and a vigorous practice would leave anyone tired. Adding the emotional exhaustion from Beth must have put her right over the edge. It wasn't that any of those things were bad, most had even ended well for Quinn, but they had all required a lot of energy.

"Would you mind helping me bring Beth back to the office?" Shelby asked. Quinn realized that the older woman was still offering her more time with the baby and she appreciated it. Looking to the side, she also realized that Beth had fallen asleep slumped against the mesh, against Quinn. Her baby's peaceful, regular, breaths calmed a few of Quinn's earlier fears. Beth was just a baby. Any boredom that she had had was something natural, not a cause for panic.

"I would love to, actually." Quinn rose to her feet, brushing off the tiny amount of dust that had accumulated on her dress over the course of her nap. She bent and tenderly, to avoid waking her, lifted the child from her resting place. When she turned back to Shelby their eyes met and Quinn shivered. There was something innately maternal in the older woman's gaze, something that was missing from Quinn's relationship with her own mother, something that silently echoed every feeling Quinn had about Beth. Even though Shelby's eyes were a different color, much closer to Rachel's brown than Quinn or Beth's gold, the young mother still felt like she was looking into a mirror.

Because, really, Shelby should have been a lot like Quinn. They had both given away tiny spitting-image daughters to strange parents. They both had had to deal with the pain caused by forced separation, whether by contract or family obligation. They both longed for a reconnection with those same daughters. The only difference was that Shelby had gone through it all first. Shelby had already failed to recover her missing relationship with Rachel and she didn't want to put Quinn or, more likely, Beth through the same process.

Quinn looked down at the sleeping girl in her arms, wondering where they'd be in sixteen years. She had seen the hurt on Rachel's face every time Shelby was mentioned. She assumed that Shelby still regretted failing her real daughter. Was she destined to the same fate, to young golden eyes darkening with scorn every time her name was mentioned? Or was there a way to change things, to act as Beth's loving Auntie Quinn despite the inevitable challenges. She hoped so.

Quinn wondered if there was a way to reconcile Rachel and Shelby as well. Seeing it happen would salve a lot of her worries about her future with Beth. The possibility of bringing Rachel to the Trouble Tones wasn't lost on Quinn either and, if she was being honest with herself, the idea of her best friend and her baby together in one place was immensely appealing. Rachel wasn't a subject that had come up with Shelby before. Between Beth and singing and Beth and dancing and Beth there just hadn't been time.

But Quinn was about to get the perfect chance to find out her teacher's feelings about Rachel.

Shelby turned to lead Quinn backstage, to the curtained-off area that she jokingly called her 'office.' The school board, which Quinn assumed meant 'Sue,' had claimed that there was no space to give to yet another glee club coach. So, with the choir room occupied and nowhere else to go, Shelby had commandeered the theatre. It had only taken her a few minutes to organize a curtained cubicle, with an prop desk from some long-past production, so she could meet with her students in privacy.

When the coach motioned Quinn slowly passed Beth over to her adoptive mother, pressing a light kiss to the baby's forehead. She felt like that was ok. If she had seen what she thought in Shelby's eyes then the older woman wouldn't mind. Shelby herself didn't sit, apparently unwilling to risk waking the baby, but she gestured to one of the two squashy chairs and Quinn let herself fall into it.

"How have you been, Quinn?" The cheerleader realized, now that she had started thinking about it, that she really hadn't had the chance to talk to Shelby much at all. She hadn't signed up for any of the offered additional practices, Russell would have been furious and Quinn wasn't going to bother trying for solos anyway, and in the normal ones Shelby herself just didn't have time. Quinn certainly hadn't worried about talking with her teacher about herself or Rachel or, really, anything at all. Beth had been enough for her.

"Everything's been wonderful, Miss Corcoran." Quinn had understood her teacher's question to be about more than just singing and dancing and she tried to respond with the same implications. "I've enjoyed my time here more than I thought I would." The thought of Rachel flickered through Quinn's mind but she pushed it down. A better chance to talk about her best friend would present itself eventually and tact was everything.

"I'm glad," Shelby stood, nearly motionless, as she smiled at Quinn. The student could understand her teacher's desire to let Beth sleep but the position just looked uncomfortable, "I was afraid, after the mess I made of your invitation, that you wouldn't join up. You're a valuable addition to the team, Quinn, and I'm glad to have someone I can rely on to help out with Beth."

"You don't need to thank me for that." Quinn demurred. It didn't feel right, not when just being able to see Beth felt like such a privilege. Shelby would have been well within her rights to keep Beth all to herself.

"But I want to," Shelby's smile twisted wryly, "I find that being grateful tends to keep people doing what you want," Quinn nodded doubtfully. She usually found, much like Sue, that fear kept people doing what you wanted. She wasn't going to force that on Shelby though. She could just apply all the proper pressures behind the scenes if she had to. At the end of the day if the new recruits hated Quinn but loved Shelby and the Trouble Tones she would be content. "And I've got something more I want you to do."

"And that would be?" Quinn was willing to do just about anything, if not for her new favorite class then for Beth. Shelby probably just wanted help with recruiting and she had already started working on the lack of members.

"I've been watching all of you carefully these past two weeks, not really much of an accomplishment considering there's only five of you," Shelby shook her head, exhaling in frustration, and Quinn felt a rush of happy warmth. If things went the way she thought they would then Shelby wouldn't have to stay frustrated for very long. Sue 'encouraging' Cheerio participation on the Trouble Tones would result in a flood of new girls in the club. "and I've noticed your progress in particular. You were never at Sugar's level but your rate of improvement is still impressive."

"Thank you." Quinn let the smile she was feeling find its way on to her face. Shelby had been more responsible for the improvement than her herself. Unlike Mr. Schuester, Shelby had the luxury of being able to spend time correcting each student personally. Quinn had never needed help with dancing, the perfection demanded at cheerleading and countless church dances took care of that, but she did feel a lot more confident singing after only two weeks.

"Don't thank me, just keep getting better," the older woman winked, "because I'm assigning you our Invitationals Solo."

"Wait, what?" Quinn's eyes widened. There was no way she could have heard correctly. Kurt and Mercedes were better singers than her. She couldn't have been picked over them.

"I want you to sing a solo at Invitationals." Shelby said smoothly.

"There has to be some mistake." Shelby couldn't be doing something so stupid, "I'm no Rachel." Quinn caught the briefest flash of emotion on her teacher's face, "I'm not even a Kurt or Mercedes." Quinn didn't sing solos, not at competitions. "You can't seriously be throwing away a competition, the entire club, just to give me a solo." Shelby couldn't run the risk of losing so early, not when Beth depended on her income as club director.

"You're right," Shelby just kept smiling, "I can't and I wouldn't do that. If you'll remember, Quinn, there's no disqualification at Invitationals."

"I..." Quinn's breathing slowed as she calmed herself down. "I-I... guess... But Mercedes and Kurt are still both much better than me." She could feel a light blush tinting her cheeks. She hadn't even stopped to think about things in a larger scale.

"Yes they are," Shelby just nodded. She actually looked like she was on the verge of laughing. "Their voices also harmonize together much better than they would with yours so I've placed them in charge of the duet. We have to fill two different slots at Invitationals this year and we can't have two solo numbers." The teacher's reasonable tones just embarrassed Quinn further.

"Look, Quinn, I'm not trying to do you a favor. I don't play favorites. I am giving you the chance to prove yourself while I can because, you're right, I wouldn't give you a solo at a competition that actually matters." Quinn just wanted to be done, to leave and recover some portion of her composure. She could talk about Rachel with Shelby another day. She didn't feel ready to take on such a big role, no matter how eloquently Shelby made her point.

"I'm actually asking you to make a bigger investment in the club." Quinn kept her eyes glued to the floor, trying to get the color in her cheeks under control. "You've been coming to the scheduled meetings, and that's great, but you need more than that. You've got potential, Quinn. You just lack practice. Put the time in with me and I promise you'll be ready by the time Invitationals roll around."

Quinn nodded slowly. She really didn't have much choice. Shelby had made her decision and there was no way to avoid it except by quitting the Trouble Tones and, with Beth present, there was absolutely no way that was happening. Shelby was still right. Quinn was going to do the best she possibly could, motivate herself, so she could help Beth. She didn't think she was ready but, if Shelby was intent on making her sing, she'd sing as well as she possibly could.

"Ok," Quinn said simply, looking up first to Beth then to Shelby.

"Great!" Shelby beamed. At least Quinn knew she'd have a good teacher, "It's getting pretty late, so I'm going to have to let you go, but I'd like you to come in with a few song ideas on Monday. We'll develop your performance together from there." She also knew she was a pretty fast learner and Fabrays didn't just lose. If she put actual effort into practicing she thought she'd at least be able to put on a passable show. The only thing she'd have to worry about was the possibility of Mercedes and Kurt killing her when they found out.

"After all, just because you're singing a solo doesn't mean you have to work alone."


	22. Chapter 14:Things You Find When Cleaning

A/N 1: I own nothing. There is a decent chance that updates will be slowing down slightly.

A/N 2: Thanks to: .oO, TeirAnazazi, DreamingofAutumn, and ShadowCub for reviewing; kya021, crazyykidd, iceygaze, squidge86, kris368, and bkevilchyk for following; and jainasolo9121 for favoriting. I appreciate every bit of time you give to my story, even if it is just to opine that you thought it was creepy. Many exceeding thanks to you all.

A/N 3: Further reviews, comments, and opinions are welcome as always.

A/N 4: Fair warning: this chapter half-contains a half-original character in the form of Quinn thinking about, but not directly interacting with, her older sister. This character is mentioned in the show but never developed to even the point of receiving a name.

Chapter 14: Things you find when cleaning

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Quinn Fabray had no idea choosing her favorite music would be so hard. She liked singing. She had been a member of two different glee clubs. The Cheerios even used popular songs in their routines. It was just that, somehow, she had never actually gotten around to purchasing her own music.

The CD-player in her room was entirely empty, used only for its radio function, as was the display rack beside it. That had never been a problem for Quinn before. It meant that she hadn't had to justify any 'questionable' lyrics or 'inappropriate' beats to her father. It wasn't that Quinn had extreme tastes in music, the standard pop on the radio was fine for her; Russell had just developed a hair-trigger standard for acceptable songs. Harmless boy-band acts like One Direction or Justin Bieber were ok. Katy Perry was pushing it, Ke$ha was right out, and Quinn was pretty sure her father had gone into conniptions the only time he had heard Lady Gaga's 'Born This Way.'

The point was, tiptoeing around the rules or owning music she could only listen to with Russell out of the house wasn't worth it when Quinn could just flip on the radio. It was safer. She could get her fill of whatever she wanted, there was a station for nearly everything, and flip it off while her father was still pulling into the garage. That worked out perfectly for everyone in the Fabray home.

Or, at least, it had up to that moment. Quinn had been fine without any CDs, without so much as an MP3 player, until a text from Mercedes had reminded Quinn of what her Beth-fogged mind had forgotten. She, along with all of the other glee girls, needed to bring at least one of their favorite albums to the slumber party that night. None of Russell's albums were anywhere near her tastes. The blonde grumbled as she scooted along to dig through another box. It was possible they were just going to listen to the music, Quinn didn't know what activity Mercedes had planned, but she didn't think she was going to like it.

It was just so predictable. Whether they were going to be singing along or simply listening didn't matter much when Quinn knew what the other girls were going to bring. There was no point in getting to know someone's tastes better when you already knew what those tastes were.

Rachel would, of course, be bringing showtunes. Quinn could easily imagine the tiny girl's massive rainbow bag, filled to the brim with everything from Wicked to Sweeny Todd to Avenue Q. Mercedes had a bit of a home field advantage but she'd probably limit herself to one R&B album out of a sense of fairness. Brittany would bring along some bubblegum pop and Santana would too, though Santana's theoretical performance would probably be a lot edgier. Tina would have something punk-ish, borderline offensive, and Quinn herself would... would...

Quinn huffed exasperatedly as she shoved another failed box away from her. She had already left her own room in relative ruins in the vain search for anything she could use, drawers opened and clothes strewn across the bed. She had also considered and rejected the simple possibility of just opening up an account on Itunes. Even though it was almost certain that Mercedes had a computer she could use it wouldn't be worth drawing Russell's attention. The man got a report on each of his daughter's credit card purchases as they were made and, even if he had promised to give her more leeway, Quinn still didn't want to rouse any suspicions.

So, when Quinn finally accepted that there was nothing to be found in her own bedroom, she had only been left with one plausible choice.

She had gone to look in Evie's room.

Evangeline Sarah Fabray had left home six years previously, when Quinn was only eleven. She had been, in every way, exactly what was expected of a Fabray daughter: Prom Queen, Valedictorian, top of the pyramid, beautiful, intelligent, popular. Evie had practically set the bar for her younger sister when she had left for college, already engaged to the 'man of her dreams.' She was Evangeline Sarah Fabray-Parson now, happily married a few hours away in Columbus with a son not much older than Beth.

Quinn didn't like going in her older sister's room. It wasn't off limits, in fact it was one of Russell's favorite places to show off to guests, but it felt like a museum even in comparison to the rest of the house. Everything had been kept exactly as it was when Evie left it, the perfect nineteen year old Fabray princess immortalized in her shrine. Quinn thought the unlived in room felt dead.

The careful way everything had been stored, in the boxes Quinn was looking through or out on display, reminded the girl of the way her room had been when Judy invited her back home. The contrast was startling. While everything in Evie's room was meticulously placed to remind you of the girl, photos placed prominently alongside trophies in the blue room, Quinn had returned to an empty white cube. Russell had had plans to convert her bedroom into extra storage space. The message was clear. Behave yourself and you'll be remembered forever. Fail and you'll never be mentioned again.

Quinn wasn't messing with the exhibit, though. That definitely would have been off limits. The only acceptable reason for moving Evangeline's things was cleaning the room. She was just going through the cardboard boxes of her sister's old possessions, the ones Russell didn't deem important enough to arrange in the room. Even though Quinn had only found clothes, photos and books Evie had to have bought some music at some point in time.

The problem was that Russell hadn't bothered labelling any of the boxes, which was likely because the contents weren't organized. Quinn had had to methodically go through each box, in order, on the off-chance that there might be a CD hidden underneath a dress or picture frame. Then she had to pack everything back into the same box. Disorder in her own room was unacceptable. Disorder in Evie's room was grounds for a two hour lecture on respect.

Which wasn't to say that Quinn hadn't respected her sister. Evangeline had always been much kinder than either of the Fabray parents and, of course, the perfect daughter had to get along perfectly with her sister. They had been friends, as close as was possible given the six-year age difference. She could remember playing hide and go seek together, reading stories about dashing knights saving princesses from witches, curling up in bed together for impromptu sleepovers when Quinn had a nightmare.

Quinn could even remember a thirteen year old Evie calmly talking down an enraged Russell Fabray when the younger sister had run headlong into a display case. The memory was foggy, Quinn had only been seven, but Quinn could clearly recall her older sister marching to her defense. Evie had put herself firmly between Quinn, bawling amidst the fragments of shattered antiques, and her shouting father. Russell hadn't calmed down, he had actually gotten madder, but the eldest Fabray daughter had always had a way with her father. She had stood, patiently taking the verbal abuse Quinn deserved, until Mr. Fabray had stormed off. Then she had turned to comfort her younger sister.

Quinn sighed as she reached for the last box in the closet. She missed Evangeline.

As she picked through the contents of the final box Quinn wondered what Evie would think of what she was doing. Evangeline had never gotten pregnant, had never so much as looked at someone besides Quarterback Richard Parson, had certainly never been accused of being gay. She had been on the Cheerios but the glee club had still been in the dark ages of Sandy Ryerson. Sue hadn't had any reason to persecute the club without Mr. Schue to lift it up. Rachel Berry never even arrived until after Evie had left and heaven knew the club wouldn't have gotten anywhere without her. Head Cheerleader Evangeline Fabray's reign would have been significantly more benevolent than that of her sister.

It had been Quinn who had coined the title 'Head Bitch in Charge,' Quinn who had gotten dragged down in the divisive games between the glee club and the rest of the school, Quinn who kept the halls of Mckinley stained with a rainbow of corn syrup and ice. If Evangeline had been a benevolent queen then Quinn was a tyrant, ruling by threats and force, and that hadn't lasted. It had also been Quinn who tumbled from power, pregnant with the child of the school's least reliable jock. Evie had been relieved from duty in the Fabray home. Quinn had been given a dishonorable discharge.

Quinn didn't think Evie would have blamed her for any of it, though. What she could remember of her sister was all soft words and gentle support. Evangeline would have wanted to help, which only made the music-less state of the last container that much more frustrating. "Come on, Evie," Quinn groaned, falling backwards onto the plush floor, "you've got to have something for your little sister." It wasn't just for the sleepover either. Shelby was expecting solo ideas and Quinn had nothing.

She just lay, for a while, in the center of that perfectly maintained room, racking her brains for another solution. Buying music was right out, especially on Sunday, and Fabrays didn't beg either so she wouldn't be borrowing from anyone. Maybe she would just have to face the music and show up without any. You could get away with a lot if you just did it confidently. She might even be able to pull off one of her father's less terrible gospel tracks if she tried.

Quinn was about to lift herself from the floor when the sudden noise of a vacuum cleaner somewhere in the house made her jump. Her head fell back to the, fortunately, carpeted floor. From her new position the blonde could see... something... wedged between the mattress springs beneath Evie's bed. Quinn rolled to her hands and knees, crawling quickly to the side of the bed and reaching blindly for whatever was hidden there. It wasn't enough. Quinn's fingers brushed against a smooth surface but she couldn't quite get a grip. With another sigh she dropped to her belly and started worming her way below the bed. It looked like Evie was going to make her work for this.

Quinn slowly wedged herself underneath the hard edge of the bed frame. It wasn't nearly as easy to do as it had been when she was little, even though the monsters lurking in every shadow had mercifully disappeared. Six years of dust swirled around the girl, tingling inside her nose and making her cough. She rolled her eyes as she flipped onto her back, sending even more dust flying as a red shoebox came into view. Quinn's arm slowly snaked up through the mess of springs, retrieving the container with some degree of difficulty. It was hard to maneuver the box, to turn it to just the right angle so it would slip through, but Quinn managed. She smiled as the words 'Evie's stuff' swam into view. The black sharpie had been previously invisible in the dim light beneath the bed.

After a few more minutes of wriggling Quinn had managed to remove herself from the dusty crawl space, filthy box firmly in her clutches. She set it almost reverently on the tightly-made bedspread. This was what Evangeline didn't want her parents finding and, even if there wasn't any music, that was a worthy find. Quinn could only imagine that her excitement as she lifted the cover of the box roughly approximated what an archaeologist felt uncovering a new dig site.

The first thing in the box, entirely covering whatever lay underneath, was a letter addressed to 'Dear Charlie.' Quinn almost tossed it aside until she remembered that that was her sister and, occasionally, mother's nickname for her. Everyone but Quinn just called Evie Sarah and nobody but Evie called Quinn Charlie. Those had been sister-only nicknames. Quinn just chuckled as she picked up the paper. She turned to lean against the bed as she read.

"Dear Charlie;"

"(At least, I'm assuming this is you, Charlie. Can you imagine dad getting down on his knees to get under my bed? I can't." Quinn kept laughing. It was surprisingly easy to imagine Evie's tranquil voice reading the sarcastic line. "In any case, if this isn't Charlie, would you mind getting out of my things? Thanks.)"

"Hi, little sister, it's Evie, writing to you from my last day in mom and dad's house. Remember me? I have to admit that I don't have any idea when, or even if, you'll end up reading this. I wanted to leave you something though and, well, you're eleven right now. I'd rather not have the parents snap this up right away."

"That's why I'm turning my stash into this impromptu time capsule. It gets stressful dealing with our parents sometimes, Charlie, and I'm not going to be around to help you out any more. I can leave you all of this though. I guess I'm just hoping you find this when you're having a rough time. Keep your chin up, little sister. You've got me out here rooting for you."

"Love,  
>Evie."<p>

"PS: there's a contents list on the back of this note so you know what you're getting."

Quinn flipped the paper over as she turned back to the box, wincing when she saw the dusty imprint of her body on the blanket. She was going to have to clean that later. Evie's room needed to be as spotless as she had been.

"1 bag of candy corn," the note continued, "Sometimes when nobody's sweet to you you've got to be sweet to yourself and, hey, this stuff never goes bad." Quinn shook her head gently as she removed the candy from the box. Evie had always had a bit of a sweet tooth.

"1 camera (and a whole bunch of filled memory cards.) Take pictures, baby Q, they DO last a lot longer. I've got photo albums of you up to age eleven on these cards. They're not great, and I didn't even take the best ones myself, but it's more the memories that count anyway. You'll have to take it from here." The camera and a plastic case full of SD cards took their places alongside the candy corn. If the memories were as full as Evie claimed then there had to have been thousands of photos there. Quinn resolved to look through them later.

Her smile broke into a full-fledged grin as she came to the next item. Evangeline had apparently been determined to make a presentation because, although the contents had shifted during the retrieval process, the dollar bills in the box concealed whatever was beneath them.

"50 dollars (yes, in ones,)" Evie had commented, "It isn't a lot but it's what I could pull together since I had this idea. If you're in any sort of trouble then start getting out of it. If you aren't then leave it alone. Consider this the Evangeline Fabray Little Sister Emergency Fund. If I find out you've spent it on cigarettes, alcohol, or, heaven forbid, clothes I swear I'll have that Santana friend of yours kick your butt. As your sister, I can't hit you but she sure can." Quinn gathered the money together, slipping it into her pocket. Evie was about a year too late but it wasn't her fault. The gesture was sweet. Maybe she'd need it again somewhere down the line.

"Last thing, Charlie, is something to remember me by. Richard's not a big fan of our family so I might not be able to visit much." That was true. Evangeline had only returned to the Fabray home once since her departure. The older Fabray sister had wanted to, or been forced to, present her new baby boy just a few months before Babygate. Quinn, thinking back, could suddenly recall quite a few leading comments Evie had made that night about her bed .

"This is the thing you're going to want to hide from dad. We both know that he's the teensiest bit restrictive when it comes to music. I'm bequeathing you my old I-pod, baby sister." Quinn grinned, hand fumbling in the near-empty box for the device. She had known that Evie had to have something. The Fabrays were raised on secrets and nobody was that perfect.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. 'But, Evie, all of your music from however long ago sucks.' You're probably right, baby Q. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if time and freedom teach me a bit about quality music. So I've got two choices here. I could just tell you to shut up and be grateful," Quinn was most definitely grateful. Anything would be better than singing hymns in front of an audience that included Santana and, possibly, Kurt. "Or I could just give you access to my Itunes account so you can download whatever new stuff I grab. Love you, kiddo."

The last few lines on the paper were filled with pure information: a username and password for what Quinn assumed was Evie's Itunes, a cell phone number, an e-mail address, a Skype profile, anything Quinn could have possibly needed to put herself in contact with her older sister. The teenager quietly tucked the music player, with all its associated cables, into her pocket alongside the money.

Seconds later she had done the same with the quickly folded letter. Even if the music had been what she needed in the moment, Quinn thought she appreciated the note the most of all her presents. She didn't have a lot of personal reminders of Evie and so, as the years drug on, she had slowly started thinking about her less. It had gotten to the point where Quinn nearly didn't think about her older sister at all.

That was going to change though. Evie clearly wanted to talk with her, to keep her younger sister in her life. Quinn thought she could do that. There was enough space left in her life for one more person to care about. She could bring Evangeline into the empty parts that neither Beth nor Rachel touched. It was possible that Russell and Judy would even approve. They could hardly complain about Quinn keeping contact with the daughter they adored.

Quinn gathered the candy, camera, and cards back into the shoebox before whisking it from the room. Russell wasn't home, he had stayed at the church for a conversation with the pastor, and that meant that she wouldn't need to worry about cleaning for a while. She'd need the vacuum to do anything anyway and Judy was using that.

Quinn shook her head as she made her way to the stairs. Her mother occasionally got the idea that she needed to help with the cleaning. It had been a long time, though, since Judy had been coherent enough to make any legitimate improvement in the condition of the house. She was sure she'd have to make a second pass with the vacuum in all the rooms the woman had 'tidied.'

"Quinnie!" Judy's voice called, barely audible above the drone of the machine, "Can you come here for a second?" Quinn did pick up her pace slightly, climbing the stairs just a little bit faster. It had sounded like the woman was in her daughter's room. Judy almost never went in Quinn's room. She certainly never cleaned it. Quinn was expected to keep her own things nice and tidy.

It occurred to her that she hadn't actually done that. Quinn's room was still a mess as she entered, shoebox held tight against her side. Consistent with expectations, Judy hadn't made much progress. The woman was just vacuuming tipsily, shuffling articles of clothing out of the way so she could halfheartedly swipe at the floor below. Quinn exhaled, exasperated, as she took in the sight. There had been a method to her madness, a sort of organized chaos, when she was searching her room but Mrs. Fabray had ruined all of that. It would take Quinn forever to put everything back in its proper place.

"What is it, mom?" Whatever her faults, at least Judy didn't make Quinn call her 'mommy.' Quinn would easily take her mother's ineptitude over her father's patronizing malice. The woman turned wobbily, vacuum cord twisting around her leg for what looked like the fourth time as she did so.

"Oh, Quinn," she started, surprised, "I didn't hear you answer." That was, of course, because Quinn hadn't answered. The blonde just walked into her room, stowing Evie's box in the top of her closet as she waited for her mother to continue. She wasn't too worried about Judy knowing where it was. The older woman probably wouldn't remember where Quinn had put it the following day and, even if she did, Quinn had all the important things with her anyway. "I wanted to... Quinnie, why are you filthy?" Quinn glanced down briefly at her t-shirt and jeans, casual house-only clothes, to see that they were covered in a thin layer of dust. Her hair was probably a disaster.

"I was looking for something in the basement," she lied, "Didn't find it." She didn't even have to try. Judy wasn't a suspicious drunk. "I'll take a shower when I've finished cleaning up." Her mother drank to escape her terrible reality, not to scrutinize it. Maneuvering around her limited awareness was usually a matter of seconds for both her husband and her daughter.

"Don't worry about that, dearie," Judy smiled blearily at her daughter. "I'll take care of your room today." Quinn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother probably wouldn't even finish vacuuming before wandering off. The only consolation was that at least her intentions were good. "You go ahead and get yourself cleaned up. We can't have you going to your little friend's house like this." Quinn had extracted permission to attend the sleepover from her parents just after coming home from the Trouble Tones practice where Mercedes had first invited her.

She turned to go. Her mother was right. There was no way she could go out in public, even the relatively private public of a sleepover, in the clothes she had on, much less covered in dirt. Quinn would need to be even more perfect than normal. No matter what Mercedes claimed about the non-partisan nature of the party she knew the New Directions would be sizing up the competition. She would be doing the same to them, after all, and someone like Rachel Berry would not be easily impressed or intimidated.

"Actually, wait, Quinnie!" Judy called when her daughter was already halfway down the hall. Quinn ground her teeth but turned yet again, striding briskly to the door of her room.

"Yes?" Judy was bent over, gathering something from the ground.

"I wanted to ask you about, oh where is it," the older woman searched busily, "something. This!" She twirled unsteadily to standing posture, presenting Quinn with a long, rainbow colored, button-down coat. "I don't remember buying this with you."

Quinn's eyes widened as she stared at Rachel's coat. She was only very briefly grateful that her father hadn't been the one to find the clothing. That hadn't ever been a possibility. Russell wouldn't enter his daughter's room while it was messy. He would just order her to clean up. "We didn't," she answered. She wished she had remembered to return the coat to Rachel, but she hadn't. The cold hadn't let up since the night of her date with Sam and Quinn actually hadn't wanted to give it back. The warm fabric felt a little like a constant hug when she couldn't have the other girl there with her. It even smelled a little like Rachel. "It was a gift."

"From who?" Judy asked, much more promptly than Quinn liked. Her mother was nowhere near as bad as her father but she still harbored no love for the Berry family. Russell hadn't been joking when he had said that Judy was with him there.

"It was a while ago, I can't remember," Quinn lied. "Can I have it? I'd like to use it tonight." Comfortable or not, she'd be returning it to Rachel at the slumber party. A little extra warmth wasn't worth the potential trouble and Quinn had her own coats.

"Well, it says it's from Rachel Berry." Judy said as she turned out the inside of the coat. Quinn had to keep herself from wincing as she read the large black letters scrawled on the fabric. 'Property of Rachel Barbara Berry.' She cursed her friend's tendency to visibly claim everything she thought was hers. "Quinnie, have you been spending time with that girl? I thought you were in different singing groups now." Judy didn't sound angry like Russell would have, though, just worried.

"We are," Quinn leapt at the chance to work with a half truth rather than full on lie. "Berry just..." she took half a second to think, to come up with a plan. Russell could never hear a word of any of this, "I remember now, she's still heading up Mr. Schuester's club. You can't blame her for trying to get closer to the populars when that's the high point for her at school." The younger blonde leaned forward, snatching the coat from her mother's hands.

"I just say that it's proof that I've done my job well," Quinn said, shrugging her way into the coat, dust and all. If Russell were to come home it would be best if he didn't notice the text announcing Rachel's ownership. "Even the people at the bottom love me. I'm not going to turn down a present. I've really got to shower, mom." She was doing her absolute best to sound nonchalant. This was no big deal, nothing Judy needed to comment on to her husband.

Quinn turned, heading towards the bathroom as her brain worked overtime. She had to think of a way to explain to Russell, just in case. The same excuse could probably work, if elaborated upon. She'd have to make it sound like Rachel had forced the coat on her. It wasn't that far off from the truth. Quinn had accepted the clothing gratefully but it required no stretch of the imagination to picture Rachel insisting, forcefully. Mr. Fabray would never need to see it anyway. Once Quinn had returned the coat she could just pretend it was a present she had shamefully accepted, never to see the light of day.

Maybe she'd have to present it as a prank. Russell was all for maintaining the social order, keeping the lower classes in their place. Quinn could say that she had stolen the coat, that she just hadn't wanted to upset Judy by letting her know that. She could, possibly, claim that her mother had just dreamt up the coat. She could paint over the black letters. There were a million things Quinn could do to deflect Russell's ire.

Quinn sighed. She had an entire shower, maybe the rest of the day, to worry about that and, for the moment, she just wanted to enjoy the faintly berry-scented warmth enveloping her.


	23. Chapter 15 Part 1: NT and TD

A/N 1: I own absolutely nothing.

A/N 2: So... This is going to be a really long chapter. In the interest of getting it out to you faster I am splitting it into parts.

A/N 3: Thanks to Faithfan2000 for favoriting. You move really fast!

A/N 4: Reviews, comments, and suggestions are all welcome!

Chapter 15 Part 1: New Tones and Troubling Directions Part 1

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Quinn was the first person to arrive at the Jones home that sunday evening. She had left the shower, dressed herself presentably, cleaned her room from the only-just-better-than-disastrous mess Judy had left it in, and slipped from the house before Russell came home from the church. That meant that she had avoided awkward questions about why she was wearing Rachel's coat, avoided awkward questions about Evie's gifts, and even avoided awkward questions about who would be attending Mercedes' sleepover. She was, all in all, rather proud of herself. She had even had time to download some of her older sister's more recently purchased music for whatever it was that Mercedes had planned.

The problem was that Quinn had arrived before everybody else, up to and including the Jones family members themselves. An exasperated phone call had informed the blonde that Mercedes and her parents were out buying refreshments. Apparently they had also made other arrangements for the twin brothers, on the grounds that you couldn't trust two adolescent boys in a sleepover full of girls. There was no way Quinn was getting into that house early. She only had herself to blame, though. Mercedes had offered to let her come early but the cheerleader should have called ahead, let her teammate know in advance.

So Quinn was sitting, reclined, in the relative comfort of her car. Russell's demand for perfection meant that everything worked well in his daughter's car. The seats were soft and the heater, along with Rachel's coat, did plenty to negate the cold breeze outside. She hadn't bothered to turn on the lights though. The dim, greenish, light of the setting sun through the trees that surrounded Mercedes' home was still enough for Quinn. She was only dimly paying attention to her surroundings anyway. She had no idea when any of her rivals or teammates would show up.

The blonde was actually floating on the edge of sleep, thoughts halfway skating into dreams before jolting back to reality. Low light, warmth, Evie's calm music sounding in her ears, and the slightest hint of wildberry scent every time her head drooped towards the fabric of her clothing all contributed to making Quinn that much drowsier. She didn't really want to go to sleep. The sight of Quinn Fabray out cold, possibly to the point of drooling, wasn't one she wanted to present to her classmates. It just felt like she had no choice.

There was nothing to do. Even answering Rachel's periodic texts, slowed by what Quinn assumed were the girl's personal preparations for the night, wasn't enough. Every shifting motion seemed to settle her more comfortably in the coat's warm embrace. Every crooning song or environmental soundtrack that came through Quinn's earphones was just a little bit fuzzier and quieter than the last. Every slow drop of her head and eyelids took just a bit longer to recover from. Everything just seemed very very foggy and far away

Quinn didn't know when she had left the car or Ohio, for that matter. The state's Lake Erie shoreline looked nothing like the warm sunny beach she found herself on. Despite the rolling waves, the inviting warmth, and the perfect light of a sinking sun that Quinn was sure had been at its high point just seconds earlier, Quinn was alone. The beach was entirely empty and her only company, alive or inanimate, was the sound of crashing water and the endless sands of a seemingly eternal coastline.

Quinn realized that her shoes had also disappeared when she felt her toes shifting in those same sands. A glance down told her that her clothes had also changed dramatically. Gone were the layers of warm, enveloping, coats; which only made sense since the heavy garments would have been miserably hot at the beach. Quinn's new, rainbow-striped, swimsuit left her nicely exposed to the sea breeze. She inhaled deeply, confused by but appreciative of the faintly berry perfumed air.

Quinn started walking and kept walking and kept walking, unworried by the fact that she was making no apparent progress. The beach was nice, the sunset was beautiful, and there was no point to hustling along when she had all the time in the world to enjoy the view. She just kept walking, unhurried, until a quick look over her shoulder showed her the beach towel she had somehow missed. It was lying there on the sand beneath a sun-umbrella, all in all an idyllic scene, and the clearly offered rest seemed very inviting to Quinn's tired legs. She lay down, collapsed, into the softness and shade, grateful for whoever had left the site intact. Despite the orange-pink sky and still setting sun, the light and heat of mid-day were in full force. The umbrella offered sweet shelter.

Quinn lay there for what felt like hours, staring out over her chest at an eternity of white-tipped waves just beyond the sands. Seagulls cried overhead, the waves continued their rhythmic beat on the shore, and Quinn dug her toes in the sand, completely content.

Then there was another body lying down on the towel next to her. Quinn could have sworn that there had only been one towel beneath the shade. She certainly hadn't seen anyone in her brief trek across the beach. As a familiar, blue, argyle swimsuit dropped into view, wrapped around tan legs, Quinn realized who her companion was. Rachel Berry reclined languidly alongside her best friend, smile radiantly white in the shade. The blonde turned to prop her head up with a hand, elbow resting on the towel, and returned the smile.

There were no words, not a single spoken sound to break in on the crashing of the waves, and that was when Quinn realized she must be dreaming. Rachel wasn't quiet, not unless embarrassed into silence. That didn't seem to matter, though, not when Rachel leaned in to occupy her lips with something much more interesting than talking. Dream-Rachel gently kissed the pale hollow of Quinn's throat, tip of the brunette's tongue laving a trail up the white skin. The blonde girl shivered. Rachel's kisses had never felt so sensual before. They had always been brief pecks, fleeting contacts, not this... this... slow, deep, passionate press of skin on skin.

Quinn writhed on her towel as Dream-Rachel slid closer, bodies coming flush one against the other. The minuscule part of the blonde's brain that had regained consciousness, that was aware it was in a dream, protested briefly. The flimsy swimsuit fabric did nothing to lessen the feel of Rachel's flesh against hers. Quinn was, there was no other word for it, sensually aware of every move her friend made and that frightened her. She hadn't been aware that feelings could get so strong, especially not with other girls.

But Rachel slowly kissed her way up the arched column of Quinn's neck, across the curve of her jawbone, before pulling back. The dark curtains of the brunette's hair encircled Quinn. There was nothing visible through the shifting shadows but Rachel's face, beaming down at her best friend. The smell of wildberries intensified, wafting from the other girl, overwhelming Quinn's reason.

Then the diva was leaning in, slowly, hesitantly, and Quinn's breath hitched a little. Rachel had never kissed her there, not on the lips. Cheeks and throats and forehead, yes, but their lips had never made contact. What was it about that possibility that seemed so much more intimate than Rachel simply lying atop her? Why was she dreaming about it? Why was she leaning up towards the kiss? Why was she letting Rachel's hands, placed lightly on either cheek, guide her so easily? Why had the heat in the pit of her stomach just burst into roaring flame?

"Q," Dream-Rachel whispered, lips a hair's distance away from Quinn's. The blonde blinked in confusion, pushed forward, but she couldn't move to finish that intimate connection. It didn't matter that it was an undeniably romantic kiss she was going for, even more than a simple meeting of lips. It was only a dream, Rachel was her best friend, and Dream-Quinn wanted that kiss. Dream-Quinn wanted more than that kiss. Dream-Quinn wanted to kiss without stopping, to lose control and let teeth, tongues, and lips take over.

That worried some part of Quinn, far away in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. Rachel was her best friend, best friends were supposed to make best friends happy, and Dream-Quinn knew exactly what would make her happy.

"Q," Rachel repeated in a harsh voice that was not her own. Quinn blinked again and the world fuzzed, Rachel's features twisting and melting into Santana's.

Quinn screamed.

"Q!" Santana shouted through the window of the car as Quinn's eyes shot open. She had snuggled herself down into Rachel's coat as she slept. Everything up to her nose had been covered by the fabric which, at least, explained the odd smell that had permeated her dream world. Evie's I-pod was playing the rhythmic ocean sounds that had finally lulled Quinn to sleep and the blonde had to act quickly to pull the headphones from her ears. The gentle waves had already begun to claim her in the time it took to process her surroundings.

"Q!" Santana shouted yet again and Quinn lifted herself forward, sitting upright. The blonde stretched through the sweat coating her limbs before turning off the car and nearly rolling out the door. The cool autumn breeze wicked away a few of the droplets beading at the edge of her hair but it did absolutely nothing for the rest of her body. Quinn's sensible autumn clothing kept the rest of her body, all of it she realized with a blush, trapped in the sticky aftermath of her body's reaction to Dream-Rachel. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Sleeping... What in the hell are you wearing, Q?"

Santana clearly couldn't decide whether she was horrified or amused, "You look like you were dressed by fucking Rainbow Brite." Quinn was just lucky the latina couldn't read minds. The 'you just crashed my hot dream about my best friend' conversation was one she was not eager to have. "Oh, right, screwing the smurf. I should have known that her terrible clothes were contagious."

Quinn blushed, deeply. She wasn't sleeping with Rachel, hadn't even done anything sexual in her dream. All that had gone on, in real life or anywhere else, were kisses. Kisses didn't have to mean anything. Quinn kissed her mom on the cheek all the time and that didn't mean anything. That was why Quinn had panicked so badly when Rachel's face had changed to Santana's.

Santana was a lesbian. With Santana kisses of any sort would have meant something. Quinn didn't want that. Rachel was different, Quinn's friend, her best friend, one she was fonder of than her own mother. That meant it was ok for Quinn to innocently kiss her and vice-versa. It was also ok for Dream-Rachel to tremulously press her lips to whatever sensitive part she...

That was when Quinn realized that the blazing heat her dream had kindled had only dimmed, not gone away.

"Oh, dear God, who knew that the only thing we needed to reduce Ice Bitch Quinn Fabray to, literally, a blushing schoolgirl was the hobbit?" Santana had settled pretty definitively on amused, mouth twisting in a wry smirk. "Have you already picked out the One Ring? How many times has she shown you her hobbit-hole?" The latina didn't understand. The closest thing she had to a best friend like Rachel was Brittany. Brittany was much much more than just a friend for Santana, though. San and Britt, allegedly, loved each other. Quinn and Rachel cared for each other, helped each other, even kissed each other, but they weren't in love. They couldn't be in love. Quinn wasn't gay.

"Where's Britt?" Quinn asked curiously. She had made it a habit to avoid responding to Santana's quips and she had assumed the dark skinned girl would be arriving hand-in-hand, or tongue-in-mouth, with her girlfriend.

"Not here yet, princess," Santana said bitterly. "B's been roped into bringing other other Asian along and, since she apparently lives in the middle of fucking nowhere, that means I got to walk myself here." The latina finished, as usual, sneering at her captain. Quinn ignored her own confusion for the moment, she'd find out who 'other other Asian' was when Britt eventually found her way to Mercedes' home. She didn't think that would be for a while. Brittany was many things but prompt was not one of them.

Santana's thinly veiled frustration was much more important right then. It was fairly clear that she didn't want to be there; Quinn imagined San had only caved at Brittany's insistence. The cheerleading captain knew that a glee sleepover would have sounded like hell to her if she had had anything else to do.

Even so, Santana's mere presence presented an opportunity, Quinn realized. S had grudgingly been giving way to Quinn's attempts to involve the diva in their group but she was also obviously displeased with it. Rachel was nearly as bad, taking offense at jokes that were positively mild by San's standards and clinging to Quinn any time the latina was near. Quinn had to jerk her train of thought back on track as the idea of Rachel clinging to her started to take on a very different meaning.

If Quinn played her cards right, though, the sleepover could be her chance to build some actual unity between her squabbling friends. When the battle lines were drawn later that night between the old glee club and the new Santana would end up on Rachel's side, in the New Directions. Quinn knew that Rachel would appreciate any sort of extra effort, any shows of loyalty, on her teammate's part.

The challenging part was that Santana was so uninterested. She was there because of Brittany, not because of any loyalty to her club. Quinn didn't know if the girl even realized that there was going to be a showdown. She'd need to start preparing something straight away if she was going to make an impression.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, San," Quinn said carefully. She wanted to get her friend fired up, excited to compete. She knew that Rachel would be grateful for any additional help she received competing against the Trouble Tones. The blonde also knew, had experienced firsthand, the difference between a grateful Rachel and a defensive one. She didn't think anyone, not even Santana, could resist that level of consistent affection. Quinn had been the girl's archenemy and she had melted in a matter of hours. Santana would grumble and gripe and groan but, deep down, she'd end up appreciating Rachel's friendship nearly as much as Quinn did. All she had to do was let the tiny brunette in.

It was hard to lead San anywhere though.

"Well thanks, Q," Santana sniped with false sweetness, obviously she still had a ways to go. "I'm just god damned ecstatic to be here too." Quinn just breathed calmly. The latina would spew her venom and then she could move on to the next step. "There's nothing I love more than getting told that my sweet lady kisses time," the blonde shivered again as another spasm of heat ran through her center. She really needed to stop talking to San right after getting all... hot and bothered was the phrase and Quinn was just beginning to understand why. The latina's relentless assault of dirty references and double entendres made a perverse mockery of Quinn's innocent thoughts, made her feel things she shouldn't be feeling. Quinn could understand her dreams getting a little out of control but Santana twisting everything to be sexual made Quinn uncomfortable. It wasn't ok. She was just friends with Rachel.

"Is getting cut from the schedule because we have to go spend the night with you traitors, the new girl who's stealing my ride, and your pet dwarf." Santana glared angrily at Quinn and the blonde found herself newly grateful that her sometimes-friend was only mad about the sleepover. If the dark-skinned girl had had any idea what Quinn was thinking about then things would have been exponentially worse.

"I'm glad you're here anyway, S," Quinn brought her thoughts back to her plans for the night. It wasn't a good time to throw herself an emotional pity party. She'd have plenty of time for that later, when she wasn't dealing with a disgruntled Santana Lopez. "I'm going to need someone to help me keep the peace." The blonde finally swung the door of her car closed, stepping a little further out into the autumn air. The cold, nearly icy, breeze helped Quinn focus. It banished, just a little bit, the warm moist feeling coating her skin.

"Mercedes and Rachel, maybe Kurt," Quinn still didn't know if the boy had finagled his way into an invitation or not, "in the same room, in direct competition with each other?" The blonde shook her head. "It'll be a bloodbath if we don't lay down the law."

"Then I'm all for not laying it down." Quinn feigned surprise at San's belligerent reply. "At least I can count on Berry to tear the Traitor Tones, minus you, Smurfette, a new one." Quinn hadn't been expecting a docile response from her friend, though. She wanted the Latina to care about the competition, to be angry or worried or excited enough to actually try and angry was by far the most likely to work. If Santana could ally herself to Rachel for any period of time, and Rachel could see that, Quinn was sure the rest of her job would play out on its own. She was fine playing the common enemy for the length of one competition if that was what it took.

"I'm not so sure about that," Quinn said, painting her best superior smirk across her face. "Rae's good, no denying it," the blonde powered right through whatever comment San wanted to make about the nickname. She wanted to seem dismissive anyway, "but Miss Corcoran's a lot better coach than Schuester. Mercedes and Kurt were never that far behind Rachel before; there's no way she's going to be able to carry your dead weight around now." The angry curl of Santana's lips told Quinn she was making progress. She realized that she was dooming any chance for the musical part of the party to end peacefully but she didn't care now, not if it served her own ends.

"Who's fucking dead weight, Fabray?" Santana snarled, "I could destroy you without even having to try." That was probably actually true. The latina was a surprisingly good singer, almost Kurt or Mercedes level, much better than Quinn. Like a lot of things, though, San just didn't care enough to give it her all. "Berry, Britts, and I are going to make you and your little club of runner-ups wish you had stayed with us."

"You have no idea what you're in for, Lopez." Quinn's smirk was real now. Santana's part of the plan was practically finished and the blonde girl didn't think it would take much to nudge Rachel in the right direction. "This is the woman who coached Vocal Adrenaline to so many consecutive national championships, the Sue Sylvester of show choir. Rachel, all of us, couldn't beat her last year. What makes you think you can do it now?"

"Are you two already fighting?" Mercedes huffed, placing herself between the two cheerleaders. "I want this to be a nice night for everybody. Stow the smack talk until Sectionals, Invitationals if you really can't make it that long, but don't you go ruining my evening." At least Mercedes was somewhat aware of how strained the atmosphere at her party could end up being. She did seem dedicated, though, to people enjoying themselves. Quinn didn't expect that dedication to last much longer than Rachel's arrival. The two diva's hostile relationship was tinder just waiting to burst into flame.

Quinn's teammate had just arrived, judging by the bags of snacks in her arms, and it seemed like she and her parents had walked rather than take a car. That explained why they had taken so long. Between awkward dreams and squabbling with Santana Quinn had been waiting outside the Jones home for nearly an hour.

"You girls can come inside if you're going to play nice." Quinn and Santana both glanced at each other and the blonde was delighted to see that the angry fire hadn't gone out of her friend's eyes. If she knew Santana, and ten years of friendship were usually a pretty good introduction, she'd be nursing her grudge for the rest of the night. All that emotion would hopefully come boiling out in song later in the evening. "Just talk about the Cheerios or something. Deal?"

Quinn nodded readily, "I'm willing to behave myself if Santana is." She smiled sweetly, knowing it would infuriate the other girl. In a world full of Sues, Russells, and Rachels it was nice to have someone who was still manipulable.

"Bite me, Fabray," the latina snapped, taking the bait, "you started..."

"I don't care who started it!" Mercedes shouted, "I am finishing it right now! Aren't you two supposed to be friends?" Quinn felt the briefest tinge of concern touch her mind. She didn't want to lose the other girl's friendship, not so soon after sort of getting it back. A quick glance from Mercedes to Santana made it clear she didn't need to worry about that, though. San was irritated, true, but irritating San was unavoidable. Quinn didn't think she'd need to worry unless the other girl actually got angry.

"Fine," Santana spat, "I'll 'get along.'" The latina listed off into muttering but Mercedes just shook her head. Quinn continued staring at her annoyed friend . In some ways, reconnecting with Santana was even harder than connecting with Rachel was turning out to be. There was some history of hurt feelings with both girls but San was much pricklier. She wasn't as willing to forgive, San's paranoia made Quinn's look normal by comparison, and she never forgot until all debts were repaid.

"Good, the other girls should be here soon. Brittany just called for the fourth time asking where my house was." That, really, was why San's dim blonde companion was so important. Brittany was the key to Santana's friendship and forgiveness. The latina hadn't grown so defensive just to protect herself. Santana was tough, far tougher than Kurt. Quinn was sure that, on her own, San could have handled the pressures of coming out. Not just as a girl who sometimes slept with other girls but as a full-on lesbian.

That wasn't an option, though, because of Brittany. Soft, sweet, innocent Brittany would have been exposed to the same barrage of hateful slurs and physical humiliation as Santana. Even San wouldn't have been able to shield her from everything. Quinn had no idea how the Dutch girl would respond to that. She had never had to deal with bullying or teasing. She might have been the only girl at Mckinley who had never been slushied.

Santana went filtering the entire world for her best friend and lover. Quinn didn't know what inspired her to do it. A few words and a pretty face shouldn't have been enough to make someone as self-interested as San fight your battles for you, follow you, love you. To some extent, the blonde didn't understand what San got out of the relationship. Brittany was sweet, pretty, would have been vulnerable if she hadn't had Santana wrapped around her fingers since elementary school, but nobody else she had slept with had turned themselves into her protector.

"I assume you know when Berry'll be showing up?" Mercedes turned to Quinn. Santana was walking off towards the front door with a phone clutched to her ear, calmly explaining to who had to be Brittany exactly how to get to Mercedes' house. The Jones parents had finished their leisurely stroll back to the home and were in the process of unlocking the door, grocery bags lying orderly about their feet; Mercedes must have sprinted when she saw Quinn and Santana arguing.

"Rachel will get here exactly at whatever time you gave her. Don't worry," Quinn answered, smiling. Her friend didn't understand the concepts of 'respectfully early' or 'fashionably late.' Only exact promptness was acceptable. That was, of course, assuming that Rachel was only responsible for herself. They had showed up nearly twenty minutes late to Santana's pool party on Quinn's account. The blonde didn't know anyone who'd slow Rachel down in this case, though, and someone making her come early just wouldn't happen.

Mercedes exhaled heavily, "Good, one less thing on my mind. Mind helping me bring these in?" She gestured to the sacks in her arms.

"Give me a second," Quinn's hand moved to her pocket, popping the trunk of her car with the keychain. "I'll take one. I've just got to grab my own bag." She had shoved all the sleepover essentials: toothbrush and toothpaste, pajamas, pillow, an extra blanket just in case, inside her sleeping bag. It didn't take her long to retrieve that and return to Mercedes, easily accommodating one bag of groceries in her free arm.

"Thanks, Quinn," Mercedes spoke as they both made their way to the door. "I had no idea how tiring all of this would be. My parents and I are all exhausted." Quinn had never had to plan a party, Fabrays were supposed to be the honored guests at social functions not the ones responsible for preparing it, but she could sympathize with the haggard look on the black girl's face. Mercedes looked the way Quinn felt after running a few miles around the Cheerios' track. "I've got a bad feeling we might be a bit more 'slumber' than 'party' tonight."

Quinn chuckled as she spoke. "You better catch a catnap now, then, because we're going to need your voice when the competition starts." just because she had to get Santana involved didn't mean that the blonde wanted to be beaten. Fabrays didn't lose and it would be best for the Trouble Tones if they could display dominance right from the start. Even a little skirmish like this could give either club a mental edge.

"It ain't a competition, Quinn." Mercedes shook her head, ushering Quinn in through the door of her home. The cheerleader actually walked ahead of her friend on the way to the kitchen. She remembered living in the Jones house like it had been just the previous day.

It wasn't as big as Santana's or Quinn's or even Rachel's, only one floor plus the basement, but it had a more homey feel. All three of the bedrooms: Mercedes', her parents', and her brothers', fed into the living room where the Jones met for morning prayer. The kitchen was just a little down the hallway, to the right of the front door, and the door that granted access to the basement, where the guest and entertainment rooms were, was on the opposite side of the hall. The building was set up to practically ensure that the family members would have to interact with one another, something Quinn hadn't been used to when she arrived.

In Russell's home Quinn's room was on an entirely different floor. She had her own bathroom, her own radio, her own computer. It would have been easy to go days without needing to see her father or mother; the base of the stairs that led to Quinn's room was only a few steps from the door and the parents bedroom was on the other side of the house, securely tucked behind the dining room. Russell didn't care what his daughter was doing, didn't even need to see her, so long as he thought everything was still on track. He knew Quinn would respond when summoned.

"Of course it isn't, my apologies," Quinn set her sack of snacks down on the counter. "I just wanted to make sure you'd be ok. It would be a shame if Rachel out sings you just because you haven't gotten enough rest." She smiled innocently as she watched Mercedes' lips press together. There was no way the diva was going to keep her cool when Rachel herself actually arrived.

"Out sing my baby girl? I must be hearing things." Mr. Jones bounced over from the other side of the kitchen, where he had been fussing over a stove and pot. "Merc can sing circles around everybody I know whether with enough sleep, without enough sleep, or within her sleep." The large man winked, proffering a hand, "Nice to see you again, little miss Fabray. We've missed you around here." Quinn accepted the hand, smiling at Mercedes' father as she spoke.

"It's been a long time-Ack!" she choked out as she was pulled by the arm into a crushing hug. She had forgotten that Mr. Jones was a hugger.

"You're part of the family, Quinn," the boisterous man loosed his grip and turned to his own daughter, "that means you get greeted the family way. How ya doin, honey?" he said, taking his daughter in his arms the same way he had with Quinn. The blonde girl caught her breath, taking the opportunity to slip off her borrowed coat and place it in her personal bag. The stove was already doing plenty to keep the cold out.

"I'm great, thanks daddy," Mercedes laughed and all Quinn could do was stare. When Mercedes used the word 'daddy' it actually sounded endearing instead of forced, sincere rather than sarcastic. After months in a house with Russell Fabray, Quinn had forgotten what normal fathers and daughters were supposed to look like.

"Well that's great, baby," Mr. Jones said, visibly winded. Mercedes' father was a large man but lifting his large daughter still had to be difficult. "Listen, Mercedes, we just sent your other friend downstairs. I rescued this from her," he flipped a phone from his pocket and handed it to his daughter. "Why don't you go down there and make sure she's comfortable, keep her company, play a game, sing a song, whatever it is you have planned. Your mom and I'd like to catch up with Quinn for a bit but we'll send her down in a minute or two, promise."

"Alright, daddy, just keep an eye out for anybody else who shows up. I know how you get when you're cooking." Mercedes turned to Quinn and her father busied himself with his cookware again, "You ok staying up here a bit? They really have been asking about you." The girl almost sounded worried.

Quinn supposed that was only fair. To the best of Mercedes' knowledge Quinn was back to being the same old Ice Queen, Beth-related exceptions aside. She shouldn't have had any way to predict how Quinn would react to her parents.

So Quinn nodded, "I'll survive," she teased. She felt more at home than she had in a long time. The smell wafting from Mr. Jones' pot reminded the cheerleader of weeks of family dinners and pleasant conversation and just... freedom. It hadn't been freedom from worry or pain, the typical course of a pregnancy provided plenty of both, but she had been free to just be her. Mercedes' family was just as Christian as Quinn's but they didn't care that she had screwed up. If she was respectful then she was worthy of respect. "Are you sure you'll be ok down there with Santana?"

"Please, Lopez is on my turf tonight," Mercedes said flippantly. Quinn watched the other girl as she went for the stairs. "She won't even be a problem. See you in a bit, Quinn." The blonde smiled as her teammate, though, if Mr. Jones was to be believed, Mercedes was more of a sister than a teammate, disappeared behind the closing door. Quinn thought it might be nice to have another sister. It had been six years since Evie had gone, after all. She'd have to see if Mercedes was actually interested in rebuilding anything. Having extra allies at school usually didn't hurt and the only thing they'd need to work over was the Invitationals solo.

"So, Quinn," Mercedes' father beckoned from his spot by the stove, "why don't you come over here so we can chat a little easier?" The teenager found her way over, examining the man as she did so. Mr. Jones was clearly Mercedes' father. It showed in his smile, the quality of his clothing, the extra pounds that clung to his frame. The weight of the Jones family members was more a testament to the parents' ability to cook than any sort of laziness. Even Quinn had gained a few, non-baby-related, pounds over the months of her stay. Those had, fortunately, been burned away in her post-birth workouts.

The thing that had always impressed Quinn most about Mercedes' father, though, was his persistent good humor. In situations where Russell would have been threatening and ordering, Mr. Jones smiled and calmly explained what needed to be corrected. He was always doing something, busy one-hundred percent of the time, whether it was cooking or helping with homework or playing ball with his boys. The only fault Quinn could find was that the man, in his enthusiasm for practically everything, was a little bit scatterbrained.

"So, what are you cooking?" Quinn asked, peering over the edge of the pot. A bubbling white sauce filled the vessel about halfway to the top but it didn't look like there was anything of actual substance to eat. The blonde wasn't a fantastic chef but she could prepare a few basic dishes, thanks to Judy's inability to do just about anything and Russell's demand to have whatever he wanted anyway. She was pretty certain that the creamy liquid simmering on the low heat wouldn't do much to fill anybody.

"Me?" Mr. Jones asked, stirring the sauce slowly, "Oh, I'm not actually cooking anything. I'm just setting things up for Lorraine." That, Quinn recalled, was the name of Mercedes' mother. "She'll be cooking for all you kids tonight. I'd feel bad for anyone who misses the missus' food. We're a perfect couple 'cause she's got the aptitude and I've," the man patted his stomach, chuckling, "got the appetite."

"You're also the source of the sauce," Lorraine said, waltzing from the entry of the kitchen to press a smooch to her husband's cheek. "Don't believe anything he tells you, honey," the matronly woman turned to Quinn, "This kitchen needs a team to run it right." Mercedes' mother pulled Quinn into a, considerably gentler, Jones family hug and this time the blonde girl actually returned it.

"It's been too long, Quinn," Lorraine held on tightly, "You shouldn't just up and disappear like that. We were all worried about you." Quinn did have to admit that she'd cut contact with Mercedes' parents pretty abruptly, especially considering everything they had done for her. From the moment Judy had invited Quinn back home the blonde girl had had almost nothing to do with the Jones parents, even while she was still sort of friends with their daughter. The black woman pulled back, smiling mischievously before poking Quinn in the side of the stomach, "and you clearly haven't been eating enough. Back on the cheerleading squad, then?"

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, I'm actually captain again." She shuffled awkwardly, feeling like a eight-year old presenting her parents with her newest crayon masterpiece to peg on the fridge. It was strange how she wanted these people's approval when giving Russell the same information had felt like just checking off the next item on a list.

"That's great, honey," Lorraine smiled, "just don't let that coach of yours work you too hard. Mercedes was having a rough time when you helped her out." Quinn nodded. She remembered when Mercedes had found her way on to the Cheerios. The hallucinations, fainting, and extreme irritability her friend had experienced were all signs that the Sue Sylvester diet was 'working.' Quinn, unlike her teammate, had actually known how far to take the coach literally and where she could bend the rules a little. An immediate jump to the level of the squad's dietary restrictions could have been legitimately dangerous for a girl like Mercedes and Quinn hadn't wanted that on her conscience. She had had to help out.

"Yeah, sometimes Coach Sylvester can get a little over the top." Quinn agreed, "Don't worry about me, though. I've sort of figured out how to deal with it." She was actually, retroactively, glad for Mercedes' distress back then. If she hadn't had the opportunity to start forming a friendship with the black girl she wouldn't have had anyone to save her from Puck's house.

That had been an unpleasant experience, living with Beth's father. It had still been better than being out on the streets, of course, but Quinn had leapt at the chance to stay with the Jones. She had never missed the periodic lewd comments from Puck and his mother's slightly dismissive attitude. The difference had been like night and day compared to the warm, motherly, behavior of Mercedes' mother.

"Well we're all grateful you do," Mr, Jones joined in, leaning towards the girls. "Merc was a bit of a monster till you got her off that smoothie from hell," he whispered conspiratorially.

Lorraine smacked her husband's arm with a spatula and he cringed away dramatically. "Let me remind you, Paul, that you're a monster when you're on any diet," she didn't sound upset, though. Her voice was more just simultaneously frustrated and amused, the way people sounded when they had finally come to know each other's habits and quirks. "You'd think the world was ending when you come through here to complain about all us eating what you can't. When you're choking down sawdust, sand, and nails like these poor girls are and you can't even follow it up with a glass of water, now, then you got yourself a reason to mope." Mrs. Jones glanced about quickly, "Did you even..."

"Start you the pan frying?" Paul cut in, reaching behind him to grab a large, cast-iron, frying pan, "No I didn't, sweetness. I'm sorry." He balanced the cookware on top of the electric stove and turned to look at Quinn. "I guess I got a little distracted by our lovely guest. Quinn," he addressed the girl, grinning, "you mind passing me some oil? It ought to be in one of the bags on the counter." Quinn moved hurriedly, rifling through bags of candy, chips, soda, and other snacks until she found the bottle of yellowish fluid.

"Thanks," he said as she passed him the oil, "Nice to have some extra helping hands in the kitchen again. Merc tries, sometimes, but all she's really good for is tater tots."

"Best damn tater tots here in Lima," Lorraine scolded as Paul chuckled. "You're lucky that I love you so much or I'd have..." brown eyes flickered rapidly to Quinn as Mrs. Jones apparently remembered that she had a guest present, "Mmmmf, forget it. Not worth my time." The large woman bustled over to the fridge, pulling out various cuts of meat. "How you been doing today, Quinn? It's been a while since we could ask you that." The woman was clearly changing the subject but Quinn didn't mind. She had been starting to wonder if she shouldn't just slip downstairs and leave the Jones to banter anyway.

"I've been," the blonde girl paused. She didn't want to talk about her life at home, not when all of the functionality it should have had was standing right in front of her. She was ashamed of her family's inability to pull together on any level. They all wanted different things. Russell wanted a dictatorship where he would obeyed with absolute submission. Judy, judging by her alcohol consumption, just wanted out. Evie had wanted peace at whatever cost, even if that meant letting her father make every major choice for her.

Quinn wasn't sure what she wanted.

But she thought it might look a lot like the two happy adults side by side at a kitchen stove in front of her.

She couldn't say that though. She had to be the perfect, smiling, shining Fabray daughter. She had to live up to Evie's legacy. Breaking down in front of another family, especially with guests on the way, didn't go with the program. That just didn't leave Quinn many things she could talk about without all the lies ringing false in her ears. That was something she wanted to avoid when the Jones were so honest with each other.

So Quinn started mentally listing the good things in her life as she responded, "fine. I've been just fine, Mrs. Jones." She wanted happy, true, little niceties that she could distract Mercedes' parents with. If they found out how miserable Quinn generally was they might have offered to let her move back in and the cheerleader had no idea how she'd respond to something like that. It was much better to just keep things simple, maintain appearances, if she could.

There were the Cheerios but, since Mercedes had dropped out, neither of the adults had much interest. There was Rachel but rambling about your extra-best friend seemed childish. Mercedes' parents probably had an overall negative view of the tiny diva anyway, since their primary source of information was Mercedes herself. There were Evie's unexpected presents, of course, but Quinn wanted to actually look through those before mentioning them to someone else. She definitely wanted to talk to her older sister before talking about her in public. She had no idea how much Evie could have changed over the course of six years.

Then there were the Trouble Tones and, by extension, Beth. Quinn shivered a little, her vision of what she wanted from her family coalescing to include a tiny, perfect, blonde, baby. She could mention that she was reconnecting with the daughter she had carried to term in that same house. Mrs. Jones had had three children. She had to understand what it felt like.

"I-"

"You go to church today, Quinn?" Paul said, capitalizing on the pensive girl's silence, as Quinn opened her mouth. She only stuttered slightly, changing gears mid-thought. "Pastor Sutherland's been worrying about you too." Mr. Jones clearly wasn't comfortable with space in the conversation. It was ok, though. Quinn could talk about religion. It wasn't the same as Beth, of course, but it was common ground between her and the Jones family.

"Yes. I did." Quinn had never stopped going to church, not even in the lax months before Russell's return. Judy had never, during her brief period in power, forced Quinn to attend. That had been Quinn's decision. God deserved an hour or two each week, at the very least. Neither had she obligated Quinn to change back from Pastor Sutherland's congregation, where Mercedes' family went, to the Fabray family's traditional church. That had been Russell's decision. "My parents and I attend, well, religiously. We're excited for the revival coming up in a few months."

Excited wasn't exactly the word, though. Quinn certainly had no issues with God. More than anything else as a child she had been taught to read the Bible, learn from the Bible, love the Bible. It was the book, after all, that mandated the Fabrays patriarchal system, that assured them that their high status in society was proof of their righteousness. Quinn knew that God, much like her father, held sharp punishments in store for those who violated his rules. She had witnessed it firsthand in the treatmeant of the Berry family, experienced it via her precipitous fall from power after her one breach of chastity.

Quinn's God was a God who wasn't particularly interested in his children, so long as they were being obedient. He loved them all, because he had created them, but when one began to misbehave or misfunction then the only thing left to do was repair or remove it. God used punishments as tools to correct sins and, Quinn had been taught, the worst sins were sexual ones, particularly homosexuality. Despite her longstanding friendship with Santana and Brittany, another that had slowly been developing with Kurt, and her best friendship with the girl with two gay fathers, Quinn was still conscious of the fact that it was a sin. All of them were risking hellfire by participating.

"I'm sure it'll go great, hon-Paul!" Lorraine cried, turning back from the table where she was slicing meat to the pot, "The sauce is boiling over! How am I supposed to cook anything with a burned sauce? I've told you a thousand times..." Mercedes' mother trailed off into the dining room after her husband, who had gone to set up plates. None of the fire and brimstone stuff seemed to be part of the Jones' position. They believed in a much more loving, personally involved God. Quinn could see why they didn't understand. They had never failed as terribly as she had, never had to feel the great empty gulf of loneliness after being rejected by their parents. The lack of God's comforting hand had been noticeable to a girl that had been promised that it was eternally outstretched. She understood the reason, she had no longer been worthy of God's love at that point, but she had been hoping for a little more mercy than justice.

Quinn slunk off as her host's bantering escalated and the dull red numbers on the stove's clock changed to read 7:00. She payed about as much attention to God recently as He had to her. She followed the commandments to the best of her ability and went on with her life. So Quinn had no problems with God but she had no great interest either. To some extent she had already lost her chance. She wasn't going to lose what limited privileges she had regained by seriously sinning again. Neither was she going to do so by pestering God for forgiveness. Quinn would just live her life and hope for the best.

A series of brief raps on the door caught Quinn's attention and she, being present, swung open the door to a tiny brunette with a million-megawatt smile.

Rachel Berry had arrived at the sleepover.


	24. Chapter 15 part 2: NT&TD part 2

A/N!: Hi, Quinchberry here. You might remember me as that long-winded guy who takes forever to update. I just wanted to apologize for the insane amount of time it's taken me to get this part of the chapter up. I sort of got hit with a perfect storm of work problems, tech problems, and health problems. Still, I probably could have gotten this up sooner and will try to do better in the future. Thank you all for your patience and your support of Faberry. I hope you enjoy the longest single update I've written thus far.

A/N 1: I own nothing, apologies for my perpetual slowness in updating.

A/N 2: Thanks to TeirAnazazi for reviewing yet another chapter. Your continued support is much appreciated. Thanks to mander5000 for reviewing. I'm glad you've been enjoying the story and apologize for any confusion I've caused in recent chapters. Hopefully I'll be able to clear that up and get back on track. Thanks to xxDark Angel Babyxx for reviewing. Please rest assured that I always update as soon as I can (the slowness is not voluntary.) Thanks to Artichoke479 for following and favoriting. Thanks to Shar0n01 for favoriting. Thanks to STUP1111 and fanficfanluv for following. It makes me incredibly happy when I see that other people appreciate my, admittedly paltry, offering to Faberry.

Chapter 15 Part 2: New Tones and Troubling Directions Part 2

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"Quinn!" The blonde girl stood just inside the front door of Mercedes' house, watching the grin on Rachel Berry's face stretch until the dimples almost looked painful. "I'm so glad you're here. I mean, I saw your car outside and I was certain you'd be in attendance but I'll admit that I wasn't expecting the Jones to have employed such a lovely greeter." Quinn blushed, muted pink filling her pale cheeks as she let her friend pass through the doorway. She usually wouldn't have been unsettled by the remark. Rachel was actually rather complimentary once she stopped viewing you as an obstacle and Quinn couldn't deny that she appreciated the smaller girl's devoted attention.

The trouble came from the insidiously tantalizing dream the blonde had had earlier in the evening. It didn't take much to see where a slightly different Rachel might take the thought of Quinn as 'lovely.' It took no time at all for that thought to get lost in ones of teeth and tongues and shivery breaths and, before Quinn could get her inappropriate thoughts under control, the heat smouldering in her lower body was already demanding the removal of another layer of clothing.

Which she couldn't do very well when Rachel was crashing into her.

The tiny brunette's arms wrapped themselves around Quinn's waist, bag arcing around to slap lightly at Quinn's legs. "H-happy to see you too, Rachel," the taller girl shivered. It had been a while since the two of them had had any sort of alone time. Their shared classes were under the eyes of decreasingly lenient teachers. Sue's change in her policy on Rachel meant that the diva got no more special privileges. Both co-captains had been working frantically throughout their Friday practice. Even their time doing simple things like walking in the halls or texting was under scrutiny from a student body that Quinn scarcely trusted.

All of that, plus Rachel's insane extracurricular schedule, meant that it had been days since the last time they had shared a real hug. They had still been texting, of course, but exchanging the little 'O's and 'X's didn't measure up to the real thing. Quinn pressed her cheek tightly against Rachel's hair, inhaling a berry scent exponentially more powerful than anything clinging to the girl's clothes. The twisting warmth crept slowly upwards, wrapping itself around Quinn's chest as their bodies came together and her breathing deepened.

The blonde considered pulling away. She didn't trust the way that that heat had gone from a compelling insistent urge, demanding some sort of action, to a contented and almost pleasant pulse, all with the simple act of wrapping herself in Rachel. Quinn couldn't deny that she enjoyed having the smaller girl, her best friend, there in her arms. She couldn't deny that the tingling flames, flickering forth from just below her stomach, were starting to feel a lot less uncomfortable and a lot more... decadent. That, though, was the problem. In the sticky sweaty aftermath of her dream Quinn had to admit that what she was feeling was a long way from innocent.

"So, where is everybody?" Rachel's voice, sighing contentedly into Quinn's ear, briefly interrupted the blonde's train of thought. "I was informed that the festivities would begin at seven sharp but I don't hear anything all that festive." The brunette definitely sounded innocent enough, ecstatic as always to be with her first real friend, and Quinn had given up weeks ago her delusions about Rachel bewitching her. No, the guilt for whatever uncomfortable feelings Quinn was developing rested solely on her own head.

"They haven't shown up yet," Quinn answered. She was actually grateful that they hadn't. The lack of present guests meant that nobody had walked in on the two of them. The blonde pulled away slightly, still maintaining her hold on the other girl, so she could see her face more clearly. "It's just you, me, Mercedes, her parents, and Santana." Something clicked in Quinn's head as she mentioned the Unholy Trinity's second in command. The latina probably had a lot to do with how Quinn was feeling.

Santana was a bottomless hole of perverse innuendo and sinful knowledge without any encouragement. She had only gotten worse when Quinn had 'confessed' that she had secret feelings for her best friend. The latina was unfortunately evocative, dragging even the simplest of gestures down into the gutter with a few coarse words. It really shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to Quinn that, after years and years spent with the other girl, her subconscious was finally starting to rebel. Quinn had never had a friend quite like Rachel before. Santana had never had such fertile ground to sow her malicious seeds.

"Given the choice between you, Quinn, and both Mercedes and Santana together," Rachel beamed, "I'll take the former." Quinn smiled too, releasing her heavy thoughts and dropping her worries as Rachel's fingers brushed past her cheek for a half-second to tuck an errant hair behind an ear. She was Quinn Fabray, head bitch in charge, Queen of Mckinley. Rambunctious emotions or no she wasn't going to let the likes of Santana or Karofsky, Quinn was certain he hadn't given up after their hallway confrontation, strip her of something she enjoyed.

And she was finding that she kind of enjoyed the coiling tension.

When she had first felt it in response to San's inappropriate jibes it had been unfamiliar, uncomfortable. Quinn hadn't understood what the tantalizing urge had meant, much less how she could do anything about it. That had changed. Quinn had Rachel. Rachel, her presence, her nearness, made the fires less consuming and more fulfilling. Quinn no longer felt like dousing herself in cold water to rid herself of the purring heat; the Rachel-tempered pleasant version of the sensation was enjoyable. The only awkward part was that Rachel probably didn't reciprocate. Quinn could only imagine how badly Rachel would panic if she ever discovered what her best friend was feeling.

But Quinn had years of experience hiding and controlling what she was feeling, both physically and emotionally. She didn't have to let the lightly pulsing energy that filled her body rule her. A little inappropriate arousal now and then couldn't possibly compare to months of constant pregnancy hormone fueled cravings. She could keep it leashed, enjoy the sensations but never ever act on them. That would be acceptable. Simply feeling excited wasn't the same thing as having sex; it didn't mean that Quinn was gay or that she was in love with her friend. It was just an extra benefit to being around Rachel, a karmic bonus for the good deed of befriending the girl. So long as she never escalated their interactions, never moved towards sleeping with the brunette, Quinn could just relax and enjoy. Rachel would never need to know and neither would anyone else.

"Thanks, Rae," Quinn smiled slightly, backing away a little as the other girl released her. Her body hummed contentedly, pleased with her mind's final decision to let go and leave things be. The blonde switched to a serious voice as she spoke, teasing the brunette, "I understand that that's probably a hard decision for you to make." She nodded gravely, "I know how much you love Mercedes." The blonde girl chuckled quietly and only laughed harder when Rachel missed the joke entirely, opening her mouth to respond nearly instantly.

"There's no competition, Quinn," Rachel's eyes were suddenly wide with unnecessary worry, "none at all, not for you." The tones of barely restrained fear in her voice would have been heartbreaking if they had been warranted. As it was, it was actually kind of adorable. Rachel was clearly terrified of losing her best and maybe only friend. "I wasn't seriously considering anyone else, especially not them, n-not over my best friend. That would be ridiculous. I was only joking!"

"Good," Quinn cut in, silencing the hysterical rant she could already sense building, "so was I." She watched, amused, as her friend's mouth continued working. Rachel's thought process played out across her expressive face, almost visibly reversing, before Quinn smiled again. Cute as the concern was she still didn't want Rachel giving herself a stroke.

"Best friends?" the tiny diva queried, jamming her eyes shut. Quinn shook her head gently in amazement. Rachel was bracing herself, waiting for a denial. She still couldn't believe that Quinn was sincerely happy as her friend. Quinn supposed, though, that three weeks of good feelings couldn't reasonably negate years of enmity and Rachel had been the butt of the fake friendship prank more than once. The only difference was that, this time, Quinn wasn't joking. Though everything had started because of one ridiculous order from Sue, Quinn had changed. She had already taken the first step in really protecting her friend.

"Forever," Quinn affirmed. Best Friends Forever, it was cliche. It was cheesy. It was exactly what Rachel needed to hear. The smaller girl's eyes flew open and Quinn's body purred, heat thrumming pleasantly, as she watched a weak smile spread across Rachel's face. She wondered, briefly, how things would have been different if she hadn't refused Rachel's offers of friendship in elementary school or in middle school or in freshman year. It wasn't something Quinn could wrap her mind around easily. Things had changed dramatically after just weeks together. Growing up with Rachel as a member of Quinn's inner circle would have led to a life that was unrecognizably different.

"Come on, let's take our things downstairs," the blonde suggested, she had never gotten around to carrying her own bag down to where she assumed they'd be staying. "We won't want to be here blocking the hallway when everybody else arrives. Sugar's going to have a hard enough time squeezing her stuff in here as it is." From what Quinn had seen she wouldn't have been surprised if the drama queen, or several of her father's servants, showed up toting an entire mattress.

Rachel nodded and Quinn didn't wait, snatching the brunette's massive rainbow bag from her arm with one hand while reaffirming her own possessions with the other. "Quinn, wait!" the smaller girl shrieked as her blonde friend strutted slowly down the stairs. "What am I supposed to carry?" Quinn could hear her friend one or two steps behind her and she smirked.

"I left your coat hanging on the back of the door," Quinn said, unworried. She swung the brunette's bag out of reach of Rachel's clumsy, predictable, grab and chuckled a little bit more when she heard the footsteps behind her stomping back up the stairway. It was possible that she'd regret teasing Rachel later but it didn't seem likely. The smaller girl could hardly get mad about Quinn carrying her things for her.

The blonde cheerleader waited patiently in the small room at the bottom of the steps, just around the corner from the relatively large entertainment room where she assumed they'd be staying. In Rachel's absence she gave her body a chance to calm down a little. Her breathing normalized, she could almost hear her heart slowing back down, and she could feel some of the flush receding from her cheeks. She didn't have much time, Rachel was marching determinedly down the staircase after only seconds, but it was enough to let her tighten her control. It was enough to let her hold together when Rachel, now in the warm embrace of her own coat, looked down in exasperation at the bags in Quinn's hands.

"You have got to stop doing that," Rachel complained. Quinn tightened her grip on both bags, she wasn't finished carrying the other girl's things, but Rachel just crossed her arms across her chest.

"Carrying your bag?" The blonde girl quirked an eyebrow, "I don't think that's going to-"

"No," Rachel interjected, "well... yes, I tend to pack heavily and you really shouldn't be tiring yourself out on my account, especially when you haven't even done everything you need to for yourself." Quinn shifted slightly. Rachel's bag was significantly heavier than her own. "That's not the point, though. It's that I never know when you're being serious, Quinn. You keep making what I hope are little jokes about us not being friends or someone being more important and... and I just don't know if you understand."

Quinn didn't understand. All she had done was help her friend with her bags. What was there to understand?

Rachel inhaled deeply, worry creeping its way visibly back on to her face. "Because I never know if you're joking that we aren't friends or if you're joking that we are and that's terrifying." Quinn blinked slowly, starting to see. Rachel was still stuck on the off-beat comment about Mercedes and Santana. The brunette's nagging insecurity wouldn't let her move on, not even after what Quinn had already said.

"I don't know if you understand what you mean to me. If all of this is some joke to you, if we're not friends, if you don't want me I might die. So let me be perfectly clear, Quinn Fabray," Rachel inhaled dramatically and her blonde friend just rolled her eyes. She could hardly fault the brunette's lack of confidence and she'd earn Rachel's real trust with time. While she waited for that, though, she'd calm the other girl's paranoia. "You, not Mercedes or Santana or Finn, are the most important person at the school to me. I'm yours. I'm your best friend, forever, for as long as you want me."

"Now, I need a straight answer from you," Rachel moved forward hesitantly. "Can you stop teasing for a moment a-a-and let me know how you feel?" Quinn opened an arm, letting the smaller girl shuffle into the space not occupied by her sleeping bag. She kept an eye on the rainbow tote hanging by her other side at the same time. She still wasn't going to let her friend make any unexpected grabs.

"No," Quinn grinned as Rachel's body twisted and her head snapped upwards.

"No? Wha-why on earth not?" Panicked brown eyes caught Quinn's gaze, pleading for an answer. "I've been nothing but honest with you and that's really all I'm asking of... in... oh..." Rachel trailed off, protests losing coherence as Quinn placed a kiss just above her eyes.

"Because you're cute when you're flustered," Quinn murmured, tightening her arm's hold around the other girl. She let her body speak for her, hoping the comforting nearness would be enough to soothe Rachel's fears. The tiny girl kept looking up, lips pressed thin in frustration, but gave in after a few seconds. The skin of Quinn's neck tingled as the brunette's head came to rest against it.

"I promised to keep you safe, Rae," the taller girl said softly. She had made that promise and even taken a few risks to keep it. Sue had placed full responsibility for the new co-captain on Quinn's shoulders. The students of Mckinley were, as always, swallowing Ben Israel's poisonous gossip about fictional lesbian trysts without a second thought. If, heaven forbid, Russell was to find out that his daughter was willingly associating with the Berry girl then no amount of interference from Shelby or Judy or anyone else would save Quinn. The decision was easy though. All of those were things the blonde could work around. She didn't know how she'd survive the shift back to a world without Rachel.

"And you're my best friend," Quinn gently reminded the girl in her arms of the reason one of the most self-interested students at Mckinley was running any risks at all. She could have left Sue's plan to run its course but she hadn't. Quinn had made her move and lifted Rachel to a social standing she'd never dreamed of having, fixed her there so she wouldn't have to fall. "This is as new to me as it is to you," because Quinn had never had anyone lift her the way Rachel did. No other friend made her tingle and feel alive just by being close. "I'm still trying to figure things out. You're going to have to trust me."

"I do," Rachel responded, "I want to. I do." She buried herself deeper into her blonde friend's shoulder, apparently unable to keep talking. Quinn appreciated that her friend was trying, that Rachel wanted to trust her. She was more than willing to work with the other girl to get to that point.

Quinn slowly started moving, ushering Rachel along within the confines of her arm. She wanted to leave their things, drop the bags in the room where they'd be staying so she could pay her friend the attention she deserved. Once she had done that they'd have the whole night to talk.

"...best part. I love stairs!" An excited voice from the top of the steps grabbed Quinn's attention.

"Look out below!" Brittany crowed. Quinn had to take a few hurried steps away, pulling Rachel with her, as she noticed the other blonde and a girl she didn't recognize mounting the handrails. Brittany was faster and she cackled gleefully as she zipped down the banister, landing perfectly at the end. Brittany's friend had less luck. She shot to the ground, only just managing to toss her bag to the end of the rail in front of her so it would absorb the impact. She bounced once, making things spill from her bag and landing flat on her butt but still laughing nearly as hard as Brittany.

"Q! R! You're here!" Quinn still didn't release Rachel but that didn't stop Brittany. The taller blonde moved excitedly, pulling both of her friends into a crushing group-hug. Rachel made a tiny noise of protest but Quinn just let it happen, shifting so that all three of them would be more comfortable. She had long since gotten used to most of Britt's eccentricities. In the innocent girl's worldview stairs were for sliding and hugs were for sharing and that was that. "We didn't know if you'd come!"

"Good to see you too, Britt," Quinn gasped as Brittany loosened her grip on the group. The taller girl had always been unusually strong, "Why wouldn't we be here?"

"Because you told me and San that you'd rather die than spend a whole night with the Gleeks," the blue eyed girl said simply. Quinn only managed not to blush because she knew that Brittany wasn't trying to embarrass her. She was just repeating something that Quinn had said to her over a year ago, "and R's still angry at the Triple Toes."

"Trouble Tones," Rachel corrected.

"I think it's mean to be mad at people with only three toes," Brittany continued as though she hadn't heard the other girl. Rachel just exhaled in a huff, curling into the crook of Quinn's arm once again as Brittany bounced backwards. Quinn smiled, moving her arm to accommodate Rachel better, then smiled a little more as she felt fingers tugging uselessly at the tote swinging from her iron grasp, "but it's ok because you're here and we'll be able to show you that people are people no matter how many toes they have."

"Who's your new friend, B?" Quinn prompted before Rachel could respond. Brittany wouldn't understand that she was treading on the brunette's overly-sensitive pride. It was better to defuse the situation before Rachel got mad and Brittany started crying. If that happened with Santana anywhere nearby Quinn didn't think she'd be able to hold the latina back.

"I call her Sunshine," Brittany said. The fourth girl had gotten up and collected her scattered things but she hadn't moved to join the conversation. Quinn assumed that was because she was content just listening to the headphone dangling from one ear instead.

"I meant her name, Britt." Quinn took the opportunity to examine the fourth girl. True to San's nickname, 'other other Asian' was clearly of oriental descent. She was short, maybe even shorter than Rachel, with straight black hair that hung to her lower back. She was mouthing along with her music, eyes closed as she bounced quietly to the beat only she could hear. She seemed like a normal student, one Quinn wouldn't have bothered noticing in the hallway. The only odd thing about her was that she was already in her pajamas, decorated with dozens of tiny suns, and even that seemed acceptable at a slumber party.

"Sunshine," Brittany insisted. Quinn moved her gaze back from the Asian girl to the taller blonde. She didn't bother raising an eyebrow. It wouldn't work. Brittany just thought the expression looked funny.

"But what's her name, B?" It was possible that Britt didn't know her new friend's real name; little details like that came in pretty low on the girl's list of priorities. It was much more important to know things like how many pets people had, how interested they were in feeding unicorns, how good they were in bed. Quinn could see Sunshine as a nickname, especially a nickname given by Brittany, but as a name...

"Sunshine," said Sunshine, "Sunshine Corazon." Quinn stared at the tiny Asian in disbelief. That wasn't a real name...

"Doesn't that mean heart," she asked slowly, "in Spanish?" She knew it did but she couldn't believe that she had heard correctly.

"Yes," Sunshine confirmed hesitantly. She probably didn't understand why Quinn was staring at her the way she was. Her ridiculous name probably made sense to her.

"She's from Japan," Brittany chirped unhelpfully.

"I'm not from Japan," Sunshine said with just a touch of irritation. Despite the name, Quinn could sympathize. That was the typical reaction after a lot of time alone with the taller blonde. Brittany was sweet and fun, Sunshine had clearly been enjoying herself when they came down the stairwell, but sometimes it just wasn't worth the effort it took to get her to understand.

"But you told me that you love cats." It sounded to Quinn like the other two girls had had the same conversation before, maybe more than once. "I was going to give you some of Lord Tubbington's pop-tarts so you could grow us more."

"We haven't met," Sunshine said, ignoring Brittany and looking back to Quinn. Her eyes flickered down to Rachel for a moment before she spoke, "but you've got to be Quinn Fabray, right?"

"Right." Sunshine must have heard some of the rumors about the Cheerio co-captains. It was either that or Rachel had continued to talk about Quinn in glee club and Quinn couldn't think why her best friend would do that. They, by comparison, had barely interacted that week. Quinn squeezed the small brunette gently; she was going to have to make up for that during the sleepover.

"I've heard a lot about you," Sunshine didn't sound judgemental, though. That was good. Quinn needed more people in respectful, or fearful if need be, awe of her and less people whispering lies behind her back.

"Haven't we all?" Kurt said, making his way down the stairs. Nobody paid much attention to Brittany answering 'yes.' Sunshine, Kurt, and Quinn all knew better and Rachel had become strangely silent. "Quinn Fabray, ice queen, Head Bitch In Charge, and sometimes glee-clubber. Celebrities would kill for your level of publicity."

"When did you get here?" Quinn asked. Kurt usually preferred bigger entrances. She would have thought that she'd recognize his arrival to the house not just the stairway.

"With them," Kurt waved dismissively towards Sunshine and Brittany. "I don't know who gave Brittany permission to drive but, despite the emotional scars, I suppose I'm grateful." Quinn, too, remembered the only time she had let Britt take her anywhere. There was a reason she and the other two members of the Unholy Trinity traveled separately. "Dad's renovating my car again so I had to walk. They passed by me and, after almost running me over, offered a ride."

"Obviously," he said, "I accepted. Before you, in your predictable spirit of inquiry, ask what I've been doing: I've just been catching up with Paul and Lorraine. Something happened with the food, though, and for all the attention I got after that you'd think we'd never started talking."

Kurt reached the bottom of the steps, finally joining the crowd of girls. Quinn almost wished he hadn't come, that Mercedes would have enforced fully the 'girls only' part of the party. The only reason she was okay with Kurt's intrusion was because the Trouble Tones needed him there. Kurt was one of the only two powerful voices that the newer club had. If they were going to be expected to represent they were going to need Kurt there.

"As fun as all of this looks," Kurt took in the group, "I don't think I'm going to be joining the blockade. We only have a limited time until Sugar gets here and I, for one, would like to enjoy myself for as long as possible." He perched his stylish bag jauntily on his shoulder, strode through the middle of the girls, and disappeared around the corner of the stairwell.

"If," Sunshine said after a few seconds of silence, "we're not doing anything else here I think I'd like to follow him. The sooner we start the sooner we can have fun, right?" Quinn appreciated the way the Asian girl sounded like she was asking her permission. Sunshine had to be a newer student in the school, not just the New Directions. It showed in the optimistic energy that McKinley still hadn't had the time to crush out of her. Most of the 'normals,' the middle class masses, at the school just quietly kept their heads down in the presence of their betters. Sunshine's reaction, vocal but still submissive, was refreshing.

Quinn nodded and Sunshine bolted around the corner, plugging her headphones back in almost faster than the blonde co-captain could see it. Brittany followed just a few steps behind. It was probably better to get a few more people in the basement proper anyway. There hadn't been any sound up to that point but Quinn didn't think you could keep Mercedes, Kurt, and Santana alone in a room together for long without seeing some blood.

"I don't like her," Rachel muttered. Quinn felt the other girl shift subtly, pressing herself more firmly against her friend's side. The blonde started to move awkwardly towards the entertainment room. It was difficult, trying to both haul the bags and avoid jostling Rachel from her position, but Quinn didn't mind. If Rachel wanted Quinn to comfort her then she would. It was the least she could do after so many years of bad feelings. She was just glad that Rachel wanted her comfort now.

"Brittany?" Quinn asked. The taller blonde had been the last person to leave the bottom of the stairwell but Quinn couldn't really see anyone disliking her. People certainly got irritated with Brittany, Quinn herself got annoyed by Britt pretty regularly, but the girl was too friendly to really dislike. Quinn could even hear her squealing 'San!' as she recognized her girlfriend's presence. Most people were won over quickly by Britt's innocent energy.

"No," Rachel's voice vibrated pleasantly against Quinn's chest, "Brittany's been quite well-behaved with me ever since you brought me to the Cheerios."

"So it's Sunshine?" Quinn verified as they rounded the corner. The Asian girl, lost in her music a few steps from San and Britt, was the only other choice. Flamboyant as Kurt was at least he had his gender down clearly and Rachel had said she didn't like 'her.'

Sunshine seemed nice though. Kurt and Mercedes were arguing or gossiping in hushed tones off in a corner, Santana and Brittany were on a sofa greeting each other with a lot more than just words, and Rachel and Quinn herself had just come in. It didn't look, though, like she minded that she had been left basically on her own.

Rachel nodded and Quinn led her to an emptier part of the room so they could have some relative privacy. The entertainment room was, by far, the largest single room in the Jones home. It had to be in order to accommodate the projector and pull-down screen they used for family nights. That, plus the computer nook at the back plus the reclining chairs plus the door to the guest room, took up a lot of space. Quinn and Rachel would be able to speak without fear of being overheard even if Sunshine hadn't been listening to her music.

"What's wrong with Sunshine?" Quinn asked, depositing their bags against the wall. Rachel snatched hers right back up again, detaching herself from Quinn's side to run through the contents. Quinn heard a lot of clacking cases, what she assumed had to be only a small selection of Rachel's favorite albums, but she couldn't notice any actual sleepover gear. She hadn't seen any in her brief glimpses into the bag while she was carrying it either, just cd after cd after cd.

"It's nothing you'd worry about, Quinn." Rachel continued sifting through her endless cases, "apparently it's nothing that anyone but me would worry about." She glanced over at Brittany, who was happily herding Sunshine towards a less than enthused looking Santana. "The New Directions are, fittingly enough, more than happy to pick up anybody new and obviously the people who've gone trailing after my m... Excuse me, those who have joined the Trouble Tones, aren't going to care that much about what goes on in their rival club."

Quinn sat down, crossing her legs and leaning back against the wall. "So it has something to do with Glee?" The blonde supposed that that only made sense. Rachel's strongest emotions had always been tied up with the club, anything that had to do with her Broadway future. "Is she dragging you guys down?" That was a possibility. Rachel claimed she just needed bodies to sway mutely behind her but she had never shown much patience when one of her clubmates lacked talent.

"No." Rachel still wouldn't look at her friend. Quinn stretched slightly, only just managing to see clearly over the rim of Rachel's bag. The brunette had reorganized the cd cases into neat rows and, even from her uncomfortable vantage point, Quinn could see that Rachel did have some sort of blanket. The thing that interested Quinn the most though was the one that Rachel held cradled in one hand. Rachel was flipping the pages of a book that looked very much like a diary, presumably assuring herself that Quinn hadn't damaged it. "No it's not that."

"Do you think she's better than you?" Quinn asked, already preparing the next thing she wanted to say. It was a legitimate question. One of the only things Rachel hated more than being undersupported was being outperformed. Things would have only been worse since Rachel, in the absence of all her normal competition, must have gotten used to getting her way. As expected, though, the only answer Quinn earned was a consternated glare. Quinn just smiled, "because that would be crazy," and Rachel smiled too.

"I'm not crazy, Quinn," Rachel insisted and Quinn just chuckled, shaking her head. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, the brunette tucking her book safely away under the blanket. After one, long, sighing exhalation the smaller girl turned to her friend, "I already told you that it's something you won't care about. You don't have a reason to."

"Rae," Quinn started but Rachel just talked right over her.

"I know. You've already told me that you're only in the Trouble Tones for your daughter which is, I admit, the best decision you could have made but that still leaves you without a reason to worry about Sunshine." Rachel straightened up, swaying uncertainly. Quinn cocked her head and patted the floor next to her, waiting to speak until Rachel had sat herself down.

"You see, Rae," Quinn began as her friend hugged her legs to her chest, "I do have a reason to care." Rachel frowned, brow furrowing in confusion, "If something's bothering you then that's enough of a reason for me. That's what friends are for, right?" Slowly, after a moment of obvious thought, Rachel nodded. Quinn was fine with the delay. Their friendship was something they were building together. They needed to agree on each step of the process. "At the very least I can do what Santana says and let you know if you're being stupid."

Quinn turned up one corner of her lip in a wry smile when Rachel shot another glance in her direction. She hadn't thought that the brunette would be so insecure at a glee party. She was trying to lift Rachel's spirits but the girl just kept sinking back down again. "I'd really prefer that you not do that. I have plenty of people, including Santana, to be Santana for me." Quinn had never seen Rachel at a party before, much less a glee one. She wasn't actually sure if the glee club had thrown parties before. For the most part the New Directions had been content to enjoy themselves in the choir room and then go their separate ways. It was entirely possible that if the glee clubbers had never had a party then Rachel had never been. Quinn knew that she had never been to any other parties. Rachel had to be miles out of her environment.

"Then I won't. Promise." Quinn scooted a little closer to her friend, "but I would like to know what's bothering you."

Rachel sighed again but Quinn could see her relaxing. Her grip on her legs loosened and she leaned back against the wall just a little more. "It's really just a feeling. I don't think she has the best interests of the club at heart and I... I just... I just care too much about everyone in the club. I don't want anyone new coming in and ruining that and, and, I think she might actually be shorter than me. That's not normal."

Quinn snorted out a half-laugh. Sunshine really was ridiculously short. There was something not quite right about what Rachel had said, though, "You don't want anybody else to join? I thought you were worried about having enough people to compete." It didn't matter what Rachel wanted. She needed more people in the New Directions if she wanted to win.

"Yes, Quinn, that is correct." Rachel said after a brief hesitation, "but I was hoping that, rather than having to rely on the unpredictable behavior of new members, everyone else would come back." She looked over, staring straight at Quinn, "I was hoping that you would come back."

Quinn's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't been expecting the conversation to come back to her, "Rachel, you know I can't..."

"Yes, Quinn, I know. Beth. I really don't blame you but I do wish things were different." Rachel turned, letting go of her legs so she could face Quinn more fully. "I wish I didn't have to watch the glee club fawn over the new girl just because she's more normal than the rest of us." Quinn replaced the 'us' in Rachel's sentence with 'me,' the brunette wouldn't be complaining if she weren't affected, as she noted Tina and Sugar entering the room. They split up immediately, Tina heading for the New Directions, a laptop tucked securely under her arm, and Sugar for the Trouble Tones. Tina greeted Sunshine with a hug and Quinn had to agree with Rachel. They were treating the new girl better than they had ever treated their captain.

"I wish Artie and Tina and Santana would care more. I know they can do more than they're doing but they just don't want to try." Rachel was venting now. Quinn had gotten down to a pressurized pocket of tension and Rachel was letting it out. Quinn hoped it would help more than the other things she had done. Rachel wasn't going to have any fun at all if she couldn't relax and Quinn wanted to make her first party a good one.

"Artie's more interested in talking about AV club and League of something or other than practicing. Tina gets distracted watching her boyfriend dance and Santana..." the diva shivered in frustration. "Sometimes I think it would be easier getting Kurt and Mercedes to get along than getting Santana to make any effort at all." Quinn didn't smile, the situation didn't call for it, but she was happy knowing that Rachel had a pleasant surprise waiting for her. Thanks to Quinn Santana was going to end up singing her soul out in the first, unofficial, competition between the two clubs. Her angry pride wouldn't leave her any other choice.

"But, most of all, Quinn, I wish you were there." Rachel's fingers must have been moving without Quinn's notice because they were suddenly slipping between Quinn's and the floor. "I miss seeing you in the choir room. I miss your tremulous alto and the way you would smile when we were singing and a harmony would come together. I miss the... the privilege of getting to watch you lose yourself in a dance." Quinn wondered when Rachel had had time to study her quirks and habits. She had spent a lot of time spying on, staring at, or glaring at the 'Hobbit who's after my boyfriend' but she had never noticed her looking back. "I miss seeing you that happy."

It was strange how those slowly clasping fingers felt more intimate than anything that had transpired in Quinn's dream, how they felt more important than all the hugs and kisses the two of them had shared in the course of three weeks. The held hands were a symbol, a promise of support and friendship. Quinn supposed it was because that was how things had really started that year. That first confrontation in the choir room hadn't been a start. That had just been Quinn lashing out and retreating from something she hadn't known she wanted. No, they had started down the road they were following when Rachel had reached out her hand and brought Quinn in from the cold.

"You don't have to," Quinn pulled Rachel's hand a little closer to her. She missed seeing Rachel in glee as well. Once Finn had finished things with Quinn there had no longer been any reason to hate Rachel but the habit of watching her had remained. That was why Quinn knew what Rachel looked like when she was about to break into a rant, or when she was worried, or when she knew she was about to hit the hardest note in a song and blow everyone's minds. She missed hearing Rachel sing.

"What do you mean?" Rachel paled a little, "You can't leave Beth, no, I won't let you. She deserves to know her mother just as much as I did and you can't just leave her with Shelby, not even for me!" Quinn held her friend's hand tightly. Rachel didn't understand but her concern for Beth, so clearly based in her own unfortunate experience, was endearing.

"No, I can't," Quinn agreed calmly, "but you could come and be with us."

Rachel stiffened immediately, the slight pressure of her squeezing fingertips vanishing in an instant. Quinn couldn't tell if the brunette was still breathing. After five long seconds the smaller girl finally squeaked out a response, "No I can't." Rachel didn't move to retract her hand though. Quinn wouldn't have let it go anyway.

"Why not?" the blonde asked patiently. She was finding that she loved the ability to ask that of Rachel. She enjoyed having managed to attain some small amount of the other girl's trust. She, as Rachel's best friend, would get to hear things no one else would hear and understand things that no one else could. Only Quinn, the tormentor turned protector, had a chance of solving the puzzle that was Rachel Berry.

"I can't... You already..." Rachel sputtered, "I can't just leave the New Directions behind. I'm co-captain!" the brunette reasoned frantically. Quinn knew the real reason of course, that Rachel considered the gap between her and her mother too deep to ever be bridged, but she kept listening. "How will Finn manage the other members without my support? How could I just walk out on the friends I love so much?" The mention of Finn might have bothered Quinn if he weren't so obviously unimportant.

"I don't think you're worried about the New Directions, Rae." Quinn said frankly. Rachel's eyes narrowed, practically shutting.

"Quinn Fabray, would you be implying that I'm telling you anything but the honest truth?" The indignation in Rachel's voice was laughable and Quinn did find herself chuckling as she responded.

"Oh come on, Rachel," the laughing disbelief was apparently too much for the brunette though and her eyes slipped shut. Quinn didn't let go when the other girl started pulling her hand away, instead gently squeezing just a tiny bit tighter. "Rae, you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Rachel insisted.

"I'm not going to make fun of you," Quinn continued smoothly, "or laugh at you or tease you. I'm done doing all of that, Rachel." If they had been in any other environment, except alone, Quinn would have been embarrassed by the situation. She and Rachel were sitting side by side, almost occupying the same space thanks to continual gradual shifts towards each other, and hand in hand. She was whispering comforting words to a Rachel who was clearly on the verge of tears. The McKinley populace wouldn't understand. They would only see another opportunity to gossip about the most and least popular girls in school.

"I just can't talk about it, Quinn," the glee clubs wouldn't care though. Even if they didn't understand all of them had seen things from Kurt, Santana, and Brittany that were far more interesting. More importantly, even if they did talk nobody would pay them any attention. "I can't because it hurts too much because part of me wants to be there so badly and the other part of me doesn't and I've always wanted everything too much and... and..."

Rachel inhaled, eyes scrunched tightly shut. "I've even been in this same situation before where I want two, mutually exclusive, things at the same time," Quinn clasped the brunette's hand with both of hers, leaving it in the grasp of her right hand so the left could move to Rachel's back. She began to rub gently through the layers of fabric, supporting the other girl as she rambled. "but it's never been quite so bad as it is right now." The tiny diva slumped onto Quinn's chest, quietly mumbling something the blonde couldn't quite make out.

Quinn leaned back against the wall. The warm weight of Rachel's head wasn't uncomfortable but the new position let Quinn see her just a little more easily. "Then I'll do the talking," she murmured quietly. With her best friend pressing heavily against her, the scent of Rachel's perfume filling her head, and their fingers tightly intertwined the arousal was starting to creep its way back into Quinn's body. She wasn't afraid of it anymore. Now that she had recognized it she knew she could control it. She embraced it, "all you have to do is nod or shake your head for me. I want to help, Rae. Can we do that?"

Rachel just shook quietly, tiny inhalations letting Quinn know that her friend was crying and not answering. Quinn's hands continued their silent tasks. One held tightly, reassuring Rachel of Quinn's sincerity, and the other traced a slow invisible path across Rachel's back. She could wait. Mercedes hadn't even officially started the party.

Then Rachel nodded. Quinn hesitated for a moment, thinking things over. She wanted to be direct but not blunt, gentle but not vague. "Thank you," she started. She really was grateful too. Rachel would have been well within her rights to reject the repentance and help of one who had mistreated her in the past and Quinn knew that she herself had been the worst. Her heart fluttered every time Rachel let her take another hesitant step forward. "It's Shelby. Isn't it?"

Rachel nodded again, mumbling something else against the blue fabric of Quinn's sweater. The blonde took her time, just stroking gently as she thought through her next question. She didn't want to mess anything up by rushing.

"You want a mother," Quinn spoke slowly, not even really looking at Rachel very much at that point. If Rachel moved then she'd look back down. The blonde let her eyes pass over the room again as Rachel continued nodding. The two girls were attracting about as much attention as Quinn had expected. The New Directions and Trouble Tones were still wrapped up in their respective groups. The only real difference was that Kurt and Mercedes both looked exponentially more irritated than they had before Sugar had joined them.

"But you feel like Shelby rejected you." None of Quinn's questions were really questions. The blonde was just verifying what she understood of the situation. She knew what she was going to ask though, how she could take the first step towards mending the broken bridges between Shelby and Rachel. Quinn had been too surprised to mention Rachel in her interview with Shelby but she could still start working from the other end. The blonde liked both Rachel and her mother and even the possibility of having them together in that glee environment seemed too good to be true. All Rachel had to do was nod.

And she nodded.

Quinn leaned her head closer to Rachel's, lips an inch from the brunette's ear. "Do you want to know how Shelby feels about you?" The blonde didn't actually know for sure but she was certain that it had to be something like what she felt for Beth, maybe even stronger. Quinn had been missing her child for nine months. Shelby had been without hers for seventeen years.

Rachel had stiffened again the moment the question was asked. The hand on the tiny diva's back stilled its motions as Quinn waited. Rachel hadn't answered either way. The room wasn't silent but it was large enough that the other conversations in the room weren't sufficient to break the tension.

Quinn wanted Rachel to answer yes. She wanted to start bringing her friend over to her team but, more than anything selfish, Quinn wanted Rachel to answer yes so she could make her happy. The blonde remembered the joy she had felt victoriously leaving Sue's office earlier in the week. Undoubtedly part of that glow had been triumphing, with Sue a compromise was a triumph, over such a fearsome enemy but Quinn was equally certain that having done something for Rachel had made her happy.

"Food's ready!" Mr. Jone's voice echoed down the stairwell, "come up here and eat before it gets cold!" Quinn beat down the urge to groan when Rachel lifted herself up. They had been so close and after so many minutes reclined beneath the other girl Quinn had gotten used to the extra warmth. The empty air felt cold even through the thick fabric of the sweater.

Quinn got up on her feet, using the hand Rachel still hadn't released to give herself the balance she needed. The rest of the glee clubbers were filtering one by one out of the entertainment room and up the stairs. Quinn led the way for her best friend, showing her up the stairway and through the kitchen to a dining room. The clamor of four different conversations carried on at once, though, made it impossible to keep talking about such a delicate subject. Rachel was already wiping away the tears on the sleeve of her coat as she sat in one of the chairs that bordered the elaborately set table, show smile fixed in place.

Quinn sat between her best friend and Tina, finally letting go of the hand she had been holding for minutes. The Jones parents bustled in from the kitchen to lay out trays of food in the center of the table. "Alright, we've got here a white-sauce lasagna, one of our own inventions" Paul directed everyone's gaze towards the food as he spoke, "some veggies, I hope you all like goat cheese, and we've got brownies and ice cream ready for dessert." The large man clasped his hands together, smiling contently at the crowded table. "Who wants to bless the food?"

Quinn raised her hand when nobody else volunteered and Mr. Jones nodded the ok. She got up to her feet again, folding her arms and inclining her head. "God in heaven," she began reverently. Her parents had taught her how to pray from the moment she could speak. She was used to prayer before meals, before bed, before family functions, before just about anything that happened in the Fabray home, "hallowed be thy name. We thank thee this day for the company of our friends."

Quinn had never closed her eyes, she didn't feel like it added anything to the prayer, and she quickly took inventory of the other people in the room. The Jones family were all deeply focused and Tina and Sunshine were at least respectfully bowing their heads, though Quinn hadn't the slightest idea what their religion was. Sugar and Kurt both looked spectacularly bored, despite the fact that the Mottas all showed up in the congregation every week, and Santana and Brittany were actually whispering and giggling to each other. Rachel just looked worried, gaze flipping back and forth between the food items. "We thank thee also for the food that has been so caringly prepared for us."

"We ask thee, in this moment, to bless that same food so that it may nourish and strengthen us," the prayers Quinn had shared over her stay with Mercedes's family had only been slightly different from the ones she was used to in her own home. The Jones were generally simple and to the point, finishing the prayer when Russell or Evie would have still been pouring out flowery expressions of love and devotion. "And we ask thee also to bless us the rest of this evening so that we may enjoy ourselves," It had only been a difference in style though and Quinn had had no problem adapting, "Amen."

"Thank you, Quinn," Lorraine said as the blonde girl sank back down into her seat, "We'll get you all served and then you can dig in," she pulled a spatula from an apron pocket and started portioning out the steaming food. "Paul, can you go and get the soda from the kitchen? There's nobody here who prefers water, right?" The students had already started to dissolve back into their various conversations and nobody paid the older woman much mind. The only response Quinn noticed was Rachel slowly raising her hand.

"And fill up a pitcher with water while you're at it, honey!" Lorraine shouted at the kitchen, clearly content that the problem was solved.

"Actually, Mrs. Jones," Rachel spoke up. There were no traces of the timidness, the fear, she had been showing earlier in her voice, "there's something else, though I do appreciate the water; soda destroys my vocal range."

"Then speak up, sweetness. What can we do for you?" Lorraine dished out a heaping helping of lasagna to both Quinn and Rachel. Everyone else had already been served. Quinn inhaled deeply. She wasn't surprised that the food smelled delicious. Paul and Lorraine both knew how to cook and combining both of them in the same kitchen only made things better. The lasagna even looked amazing, something not a lot of domestic chefs could accomplish, with sauce, cheese, and meat oozing creamily from between the noodles.

"I'm a vegan, Mrs. Jones," Quinn looked over to Rachel, who was staring down at the food on her plate with an expression of mild disgust, "and I don't want to force anything on any of you. I'm sure you've worked hard and everything looks great but... I don't think I can eat any of this."

"Wait, you're a what?" Mercedes asked from the other side of the table.

"A vegan. We don't eat or utilize any animal products. It's a lifestyle decision that I took with my fathers when I was three. Despite some minor inconveniences it's always ended up."

"I know what a vegan is," Mercedes cut Rachel off before she could finish explaining. Quinn frowned a little, only the corners of her lips turning down. Mercedes hadn't needed to do that. Nobody was in a rush. There was plenty of time to let Rachel finish her thought even if she had started ranting. "I just didn't think I heard you right. Didn't know you were one. Sorry." Mercedes returned to her food. Most of the teenagers were eating enthusiastically, talking between or around mouthfuls. The only person, besides Quinn and Rachel, who hadn't touched her food was Santana and the latina almost never ate anything anyway.

"Oh my goodness, sugar, we didn't..."

"What?" chimed Sugar.

"Know," Lorraine looked apologetically down at Rachel's plate as Mercedes explained her mom's pet names to Sugar. "We don't have anything here in the house that'll do. Are you sure you can't eat anything?" Quinn, despite the months she had lived with the Jones, was surprised by the concern Mrs. Jones was showing. She had been expecting a reaction that was a lot more in line with the one Mercedes had given: a quick sorry and then utter indifference. Most parents, Russell was an obvious exception, believed their children's assessments of their classmates.

"I probably shouldn't," Rachel answered, "I've tried before at family reunions and I just got sick. I guess my body isn't used to meat or cheese or eggs. It'll be best if I just abstain for the night. Water will be fine." The brunette teenager gave Lorraine a smile that Quinn would have accepted as sincere a few weeks before. She knew Rachel a little better now, knew that the tiny girl ate quite a bit to maintain her breakneck schedule, knew what Rachel looked like when she was really smiling.

"You can't just eat nothing," Lorraine sounded shocked. Going to bed, or anywhere really, hungry was a cardinal sin in the Jones home. "There's a Wal-mart just over there," the woman directed with a braceleted arm, "we could take you and you could help us pick out something that'll work for you."

"Oh no you can't," Mercedes rejoined the conversation, "not while you've still got everything in the basement code-locked. We need you two to set up the games." There was a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the table. Quinn didn't join in. All she could think about was how Rachel had been unhappy since arriving at the party. Lorraine, at least, was still looking expectantly at Rachel.

"No, no thank you," Rachel said. It wasn't as though she had been given any other choice. She had only held the attention of the other students for as long as it took them to assure themselves that their evening was safe. "I'd hate to be a bother," Quinn was certain that only she could hear the bitterness creeping into her friend's voice. Nobody else cared enough to listen for it, "and it's too cold and dark for me to go on my own. I don't have a car."

"But I do," Quinn said, rising yet again, "and I can wait for a while to help my friend." She looked around at the other members of the glee clubs, feeling slightly disgusted herself. Not even the New Directions girls had spoken up for their teammate. "Let's go, Rachel."

"You can't go hungry either, Quinn," Rachel was already protesting and the blonde girl just rolled her eyes, "You haven't even touched your food and I won't have you missing out on my account."

"The food will still be here when we get back, Rachel," Quinn explained.

"But it will be best if you eat it while it's warm."

"Microwave."

"And fresh!"

"Berry," Quinn said, half amused and half exasperated, "shut up and come to the car." Everyone in the dining room was staring at them. Even if Quinn couldn't see the other students the dead silence would have given it away.

"Alright, Quinn," Rachel said slowly after a few seconds. Quinn assumed that she, like most of the other people in the room, was still trying to figure out whether or not Quinn had actually been angry. The blonde hadn't spoken with any malice in her voice but, given the history, there was still plenty of room to wonder. "Lead the way."

Quinn waited until Rachel had actually stood up from her chair before turning. She still wanted to say something else to the other students, something to defend her friend, but she couldn't think how to phrase it. She couldn't think clearly about very much at all. She was angry, she realized, just not at Rachel herself. All Rachel had done was avoid conflict. It was the rest of the group that had behaved badly, that didn't value Rachel as much as she deserved. They barely even cared enough to recognize the girl's talent. Quinn inhaled once deeply before turning and marching from the room with Rachel trailing behind her.

"Quinn, is everything ok?" Rachel asked as they made their way out the front door. Quinn took heavy breaths of the cold autumn air, allowing herself to calm down. There was no point getting mad about something that was mostly her own fault. The Gleeks hadn't placed Rachel at the bottom; the hierarchy had and the most powerful student in the hierarchy was Quinn Fabray.

"I'm fine, Rae," Quinn said, shivering. Since the sun had fully disappeared below the tree-blocked horizon the temperature had dropped dramatically and the coat that she had been wearing, Rachel's coat, was now on her best friend's body. "They just... don't treat you the way they should. And I guess that bothers me now." Quinn was already fishing her keys from a pocket. She didn't want to look back at Rachel. It would be too much to have to see that lovely face lined with worry when Quinn was really only angry with herself.

The blonde unlocked the car with the remote, fumbling at the door once she arrived. She didn't feel angry in any of the ways she normally did. This wasn't the bottled, powerless, resentment that Russell inspired nor the snapping fury reserved for the students of McKinley. The frustrated regretful guilt that Quinn was feeling was entirely new and she was directing it at herself. She wished she had been brave enough to stand up to her father when she was younger. She wished she hadn't conspired with Santana and Brittany and all the other populars to keep a tiny talented brunette out of every major student activity since elementary school. She wished that she had been friends with Rachel longer.

"It's really not your fault, you know," Rachel moved herself smoothly into the front passenger seat of the car and Quinn stared incredulously at her seat. Of course it was her fault. She couldn't understand how her friend could even pretend to be so forgiving. Had the situations been reversed Quinn would have never forgotten what had been done to her.

"Don't lie to me, Rachel," Quinn shook her head as she got into the driver's seat, "not about this. I know what I've done." She started the car, shivering yet again as an initial gush of cold air poured from the vents. "Your life should be so much better than what it is but, because of me, it isn't and I've only recently started putting things right. The insults are my fault. The slushies are my fault. The fact that everyone, including the glee club, treats you like an object or worse is my fault."

"Things should be so much better for you," Quinn repeated as she pulled the car out into the street. The supermarket wasn't far. She had made the walk there and back several times when she had lived with Mercedes. She didn't think it would take more than two minutes to get there in a car. If it hadn't been so cold she probably would have chosen to walk with Rachel instead of driving. "You're talented, you can sing and dance and you can even cheer. You're cute enough that you got the attention of the Quarterback. The school has no reason to hate you."

"But one selfish, jealous, angry person who was guaranteed popularity by birth decided that you should be condemned for the same meaningless reason." Quinn shook yet again but, this time, it wasn't because of the cold. The heater had already kicked in and the interior of the car was slowly filling with warm air. Quinn was shaking because of frustration and rage. Russell had taken the decision, made the decree that amongst all the undesirables of Lima the Berrys and their daughter were the worst, but Quinn blamed herself as much as her father for enforcing it with such zeal.

"And I'm just now starting to make up for everything I did." Quinn knew she probably shouldn't be driving when she felt the way she felt. She didn't dare look over at her friend. She hadn't even looked at her right-hand mirror for fear of accidentally having to see Rachel's face. The tiny diva hadn't made a sound. Quinn hadn't let her. The words of the blonde's confession tumbled from her lips in a stream she didn't know how to stop. "Do you know why you were always alone on the playground? Why, as far back as the god damned first grade, you never got invited to birthday parties or sleepovers or anything else? It was 'because Quinn said so.'"

"For ten years I did nothing for you but make your life hell. How can three weeks of putting things back where they should have been all along be enough for you to... to forgive me, to not hate me." Quinn could feel herself slipping further from rationality, guilt and desperation combining in a potent mix that overwhelmed her normal self control. "Everyone's been awful to you but I was always the worst."

The emotion finally won out and Quinn choked, throat refusing to shape any more words. Silence filled the car and Quinn knew she had broken it. She had ruined everything. Rachel could see everything just as clearly as Quinn herself did. The lights of the Wal-mart parking lot were only a comfort because Rachel wouldn't be forced to spend any more time with her. Quinn brought the car to a halt in the closest space to the entry she could find, waiting for the brunette to climb from the car. She wouldn't be following.

"Quinn, are you finished?" Rachel's tone made things so much worse. After all Quinn's tortured words Rachel's voice was still just filled with caring concern. Furious guilty tears slowly welled up in Quinn's eyes as she stared at the steering wheel. Her voice still wouldn't work, her hands were balled into fists to keep them from shaking, and she still couldn't look at Rachel. "All you have to do is nod or shake your head for me."

Quinn nodded jerkily. She was finished. She was sure that saying anything would have only made things worse. Even if she could have thought of anything more to say she wouldn't have been able to. She was too busy trying to get a grip on herself.

"Do you feel any better, now that you're done?" Quinn shook her head, still diligently avoiding looking at Rachel. "Then I'm going to answer your questions," Quinn shook her head again. She didn't need those answers. She was terrified of those answers, "that one wasn't a question." The faint hint of amusement in the brunette's voice was just as confusing as the reason why the smaller girl hadn't left Quinn alone in the car to stew in her own tears.

"To start, I want to thank you for letting me know how you feel and yes." Quinn shied away from the hand that tried to rest itself on her shoulder. She didn't deserve it. "Yes I did know that you were the root cause behind the majority of my schooltime woes. You were actually rather clear about your intentions but that doesn't mean that I blame you or that I hate you. I never hated you."

"What?" Quinn had recovered enough for that one startled interjection. If Rachel forgiving her then was hard to believe then Rachel having never hated her was an impossible fiction.

"I never hated you," Rachel repeated, "I certainly envied you, wanted what you had, wanted to be you, wanted you but I never hated you."

"How?" Quinn gasped out between sharp inhalations.

"A number of reasons, really. One grows accustomed to their lot in life with time and, well, those ten years were more than half my life, Quinn." That perspective really only made things worse from Quinn's point of view. Rachel had spent more than half her life under the constant crushing weight of the Fabrays' oppression. "Somewhere along the line I learned to view my situation as less of someone being out to get me and more as simply another trial I'd have to overcome on my inevitable road to fame."

"I'm not a hateful person, Quinn. That, thankfully isn't one of my flaws. I don't hate people. Well, there's Shelby but she's different. She should have known better," the anger that Quinn had been expecting the entire time was only there in that moment, when Rachel was talking about her mother. None of it was reserved for the blonde girl quivering in the driver's seat, "but you shouldn't have. You were, more or less, innocent. You forget that I know to some extent where you come from, Quinn. You can hardly be blamed for behaving the way you did with your upbringing."

"Besides, your direct acts of bullying were few and far between and, although I know you like to think that you have the power to direct the student body in accordance with your whims, I'd much rather assign whatever blame I must to the direct perpetrators. Noah, Santana, Brittany, even brutes like Azimio and Karofsky all had their own agency. They chose to do what they did even if you were there motivating them."

There was a brief silence as Rachel thought, Quinn was in no condition to contribute any more to the conversation. Thanks to the clenching bite of fingernails in her palm and years of practice Quinn had stopped the tears but she still didn't trust herself to talk. It was entirely too probable that, once she had pronounced the first word, she'd fall back to pieces.

"Another question, though I'm not done answering all of yours," Rachel was a little more hesitant as she spoke, hesitant in that way that Quinn had only ever heard when they were alone together. She nodded. "May I... May I have permission to touch you?"

Quinn nearly shook her head. Why would Rachel want to touch her? The only reason the blonde could think of, the only thing she felt she deserved, would be to smack her across the face. She thought, though, that if Rachel did want that then she'd be well within her rights and if she didn't then Quinn wasn't going to complain. She nodded again.

"Thank you," Rachel said and Quinn did feel the other girl's fingers on her face. Not as an anger fueled impact, though, but as a gentle guiding pressure on her chin and jawbone. "Look at me, please," the brunette commanded politely and Quinn let her head be moved. As the blonde's gaze slid slowly upwards and sideways Rachel came into view, leaning forwards across the separation so she could guide Quinn with her cupped hand.

Then Quinn could see Rachel's eyes and everything else got a little lost. Despite the calmness of her tone Rachel's eyes were swimming with unexpressed tears. Quinn wanted to look away but she couldn't. Rachel's gentle touch held her more firmly than a vise.

"After all of that," Rachel's lips were moving, making sounds that Quinn barely registered as words, "I still haven't mentioned the most important reason." Rachel was crying because of Quinn yet again and that was how the blonde knew she had failed. Rachel was crying and she was too afraid of losing Quinn, losing the only friendship Quinn herself had ever let her have, to let it show.

"I don't hate you, Quinn, I forgive you of quite literally everything you've ever done to me, even if you were the worst," which she was, "which you're not, because you changed." Rachel blinked suddenly, repeatedly. Quinn didn't know if the other girl had realized that Quinn noticed her tears but a few sweeps of eyelashes blurred them away.

"You're not that same little girl on the playground, shouting out the remarkably uncreative but still cutting nickname 'Manhands.' You aren't the cheerleader who ordered her squadmates to pretend to be my friends. You don't have to be the Quinn who draws pornographic pictures of me on bathroom walls." Rachel exhaled a sigh of quiet frustration. "That Quinn died three weeks ago. You're different now. You're my best friend. I wish there were some way I could make you see."

"And maybe there is," Quinn watched Rachel's features lift a little as an idea entered her head, "close your eyes," Quinn complied, "and lean in a little, please. It might be a little uncomfortable. We're hardly in the ideal setting for any of this." Rachel's hand guided Quinn's face to where she wanted it. After another moment of silence, lost in the darkness behind her own eyelids, Quinn felt a soft pressure against the hollow of her left eye.

"Don't cry," Quinn felt the words vibrating against her skin, Rachel murmuring as she kissed away the remnants of Quinn's tears. Berry-scented hair tickled against the blonde's cheek and jaw as Rachel pressed a similar kiss to Quinn's other eye. "I forgive you."

"You're not that same Quinn," Rachel spoke, still close enough that the blonde could feel warm breath on her skin, "not if you don't want to be. You can let her go. You can be my best friend Quinn, my Quinn, and my Quinn has never hurt me." Rachel's breath was speeding up, though Quinn could no longer decide whether it was from nervousness or excitement. "Can you try that? starting over? forgiving yourself?"

It was Quinn's turn to freeze.

The darkness made it easier to think, blocked out distractions like Rachel's eyes and lips and hands. Quinn didn't know if she could forgive herself, not even at the request of one she had wronged. She didn't feel like she had earned the forgiveness being offered. Typical Fabray practice fell somewhere along the lines of 'a life for an eye' and the same for a tooth or any other harm that came their way. This free pardon being gently pressed on her was entirely foreign.

On the one hand: Quinn had legitimately wronged Rachel. No amount of pretty words about forgiveness and new Quinns was going to change that. The blonde knew that she would have to work for years in order to properly start recompensing the damage. How could she accept forgiveness when she was still in so much debt?

On the other hand: all Rachel wanted to pay that debt was for Quinn to forgive herself, to leave the old Quinn dead in the past and solidify the change she had made. Didn't the person to whom the debt was owed have the power to set the terms? Hadn't Quinn been struggling for days to try and do the exact same thing, to make Rachel a permanent part of her life? Hadn't she been wondering just a half-hour earlier how she could make her best friend happy?

"Can you let yourself be my Quinn?" Rachel asked one last time.

Quinn nodded.

"Thank you," Quinn could hear Rachel beaming and another kiss was quickly pressed against her right cheek. "Thank you," Rachel said again, repeating the gesture on the other side of Quinn's face. Quinn bowed her head, smiling simply because she was unable to keep Rachel's sudden joy from infecting her, and the brunette's lips brushed against the skin of her forehead. "Thank you," Rachel sounded almost... reverent. Her tone reminded Quinn of the fervent gratefulness of a man communing with God.

"Let's go buy your food," Quinn said hoarsely, opening her eyes. Her hand came to her throat, rubbing gently at the sore muscle, and Rachel's was only a second behind it. Gentle fingers traced over the back of Quinn's hand the same way Quinn's eyes traced the contours of Rachel's joyous face over and over again. "San's probably already complaining about us taking so long."

Rachel nodded her agreement and Quinn's other hand quested for the latch of the door behind her. She turned, with some difficulty, away from Rachel, switched off the car, and stepped out into the chilly night air. The blonde hissed in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, jammed trembling hands into her pockets, and kicked the door closed before scurrying around to the other side.

Rachel had already climbed from the car and was waiting patiently by the time Quinn came into view. She walked to meet Quinn at the end of the car, smiling radiantly up at the taller girl. She looped an arm into one of Quinn's, not removing the hand from the pocket but still pinning herself firmly to Quinn's side.

"You do realize," the brunette began, content suffusing every note of her voice, "that this means that I won't be permitting any more of this 'woe is me. I'm not worthy' stuff, right?" With Rachel there alongside her, happy and safe, Quinn barely felt the cold. The blonde didn't know how long it would take for her to really forgive herself. Letting go of the larger part of your life was a difficult prospect but Rachel had done it. Rachel had forgiven her and that initial release of guilt felt good. "As much as I appreciate you opening up and finally letting me know how you feel I said that I missed seeing you happy."

Any worries at all about the temperature disappeared as the girls passed through Wal-mart's mechanized sliding doors into the warmth of the interior. "I missed seeing you happy too," Quinn confessed, ignoring the welcome of the elderly greeter, "I was worrying the whole time we were at Mercedes house because you seemed uncomfortable. I felt like I kept upsetting you and you were having a rotten time." She guided them both over to where the handcarts and baskets were collected, snagging one from the ground, "but now," Quinn grinned, "you're all smiles and sunshine."

"I'm not Sunshine," Rachel mock-grumbled, bumping into Quinn's side, "she's shorter than me, remember?" Quinn snorted, unsure if Rachel was trying to tell a joke or not. She let Rachel take the reins, content to just carry the basket. She didn't know where to find vegan food in a normal supermarket. Vegetarian was easy but vegan had all sorts of restrictions that Quinn didn't understand.

"Fine, you're just smiles then," Quinn agreed, rolling her eyes, "you aren't Sunshine or Sugar or anything else like that, just Rachel." Her voice was still a little scratchy but it was improving quickly. She didn't think there'd be any external signs of her tears by the time they got back to Mercedes' home.

"Just your Rachel," Rachel nodded happily, picking out a bell pepper.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. Rachel wasn't looking at her but the motion was more of a reflex than anything. "What was that?" she asked. It wasn't an objection, Quinn had thought of Rachel as 'hers' for quite a long time. Rachel had been her victim, her enemy, her rival, her reason to join glee, her assignment, her best friend but hearing the girl apply the possessive term to herself was strange.

"It's like I said this morning," Rachel responded, unfazed, as they moved along to choose from traditional fruits. They were moving quickly but that wasn't any surprise. They only needed food for one person, "I'm yours for as long as you want me. It's only fair. If you're going to be my Quinn then I'm going to try be your Rachel." Kiwis, apples, and bananas found their way into bags, onto the weights, and into Quinn's basket. "You aren't the only person who has things they want to leave behind. Your Rachel is learning to be more trusting, less selfish, less obnoxious, just better."

Quinn shook her head as they turned a corner, leaving the produce behind. Rachel didn't need her help to get any better. "I'm yours and you," Rachel bumped her taller friend again, "are mine and that," she paused emphatically, "is why I'm all smiles."

Quinn didn't respond immediately. She was too busy chewing over the implications of her being Rachel's. She had no problems with Rachel classifying herself as hers. It was actually a comforting thought in a world where Finn was back in the same club as the brunette. She hadn't been lucid enough to worry about it in the car but she didn't know if she could honestly say she was Rachel's. The tiny diva nattering away at Quinn's side certainly had a strong hold on her blonde friend but so did Sue and Russell. Evangeline held a special, though neglected, place in Quinn's heart. Even Sam could rightfully claim a piece of Quinn Fabray. One date was more than enough to make things official for people of their status.

Rachel's strongest competition though, without contest, was Beth. Quinn's child, so recently reintroduced to her life, had the advantage of that deep instinctive bond between a mother and her daughter. Quinn knew she'd do anything to protect that baby.

But Beth had someone else willing to do anything for her. She had Shelby. She had Rachel's mother in the same way that Russell had Judy, and vice versa, and Evie had her husband and Sue had her Cheerios. None of them needed Quinn the way Rachel did. All of them had somebody else. Rachel had almost no one, not her mother, not her ex-boyfriend, not her glee club.

She needed Quinn most and, because of that, Quinn could be hers.

She didn't need to say it out loud though. Rachel already assumed it was true. All announcing it would do was let the brunette know that it had been in doubt. It was better to just stay silent, let Rachel tow her through the store and chatter about glee.

"We had auditions for Invitationals on Thursday," Rachel commented. "I honestly don't understand why Mr. Schue insists on the charade when he could just give me the extra time to prepare my solo. Especially for an event that isn't even technically a competition." The tiny girl shook her head, "I've already started, of course, but I'm going to have to wait until next Thursday to have it made official and nobody seems very interested in helping me until I have the teacher's approval."

"What are you doing for Invitationals?" Rachel asked. Quinn looked down at her friend. It was the first comment in a few minutes that had actually been directed at the blonde. Rachel was leaning into a freezer, looking back out at Quinn as she waited for some sort of response.

"Nice try, Rachel," Quinn smirked, "I'm not giving up our plans that easily."

"What?" Rachel's jaw dropped in indignance, "I would never stoop so low!"

"Like you didn't stoop with the vitamin D thing?" Quinn teased.

"That was one time! The boys started it!" the brunette was already sulking grumpily. She couldn't cross her arms across her chest since one was firmly linked with Quinn's so she placed her free hand petulantly on her hip. The freezer door snapped shut behind her, all but forgotten.

"I don't know, Rae. How can I be sure I can trust you?" Quinn was smiling from ear to ear, barely not breaking down into laughter. If Rachel couldn't tell that she was joking then she really only had herself to blame.

"Because your secrets are my secrets," Rachel insisted, lip jutting out, "I'm yours. You can trust me."

"Well," Quinn pretended to think, eyes lifted, finger to her lips. She could still hear Rachel shifting anxiously, "okay. I guess I can tell you. We don't have anything definitive worked out but Miss Corcoran wants to give me the solo."

"Really?" Rachel's surprise didn't hurt Quinn's feelings. She had hardly believed it herself when Shelby had told her. She just nodded proudly, "and Kurt and Mercedes aren't at your throat?"

"I think they have the lead part in the other number as a duet," Quinn answered, looking back down at her friend, "and it's not like Invitationals actually matter."

"Of course they do," Rachel said, turning back to the freezer once she realized there was nothing to worry about. "This is a great opportunity for you to develop your latent potential as a singer, Quinn. You're much better than you give yourself credit for." Rachel hummed quietly as she looked for whatever was in the freezer. Quinn wasn't really paying attention and the frosty glass panes were more than sufficient to keep her from noticing what lay within.

Quinn was more focused on the seed of an idea that had entered her brain. She was going to have to sing at Invitationals, Shelby had made that clear, and she wanted to put on the best show she could for Beth's sake. Rachel knew how to sing. Rachel actually liked her. Rachel could help her get better.

"Show me," the blonde said simply.

"Pardon?"

"Show me that I can sing," Quinn clarified, "we can get together after school, you can show me what to do. Tutor me," she instructed.

"I-I don't know, Quinn," Rachel's voice slipped from pleasant to nervous in an instant, "that sounds lovely but it also sounds an awful lot like helping the competition and you remember how everyone behaved with Jesse." Quinn did. Over the course of her courtship with Jesse St. James Rachel had been even more of an outcast than she was normally. That was probably why it had been so devastating when he broke her heart. "The New Directions would kill me."

"I'll keep you safe," Quinn promised, "and besides," she leaned into the icy air, closer to Rachel, "if you're my Rachel doesn't that mean I get to do what I want with you?"

"I'll... think about it," Rachel shivered but she didn't pull her head from the freezer. Quinn imagined it was a difficult job, looking for whatever it was with only one arm, "I really don't have a lot of time after school most days and I found it!" the brunette crowed, clearly changing the subject. "Vegan ice cream. I swear, they hide the things they should be making easier to find." She dropped a little container into Quinn's basket alongside some other boxes and a lot of produce. "What else do I need..."

"Do you have some sort of list you're reading all of this from?" Quinn asked. They still hadn't been in the store all that long but the basket in Quinn's arm was getting surprisingly heavy.

"No, I just know what I like. The only paper I have with me is in my journal anyway," Rachel looked down patting her side, "and..." Her eyes widened as she waved her hand through the space where her bag normally hung, "and it's not here which means I left it in Mercedes' house..."

"We're done, take me back there right now." Rachel spoke flatly.

"Is something wrong?" Quinn asked, a little worried. She hoped it wasn't going to take too much to get Rachel back to being happy.

"I left a compilation of my most personal thoughts over the last several years alone in a house with Mercedes, Kurt, Santana, and Sugar. That's not 'something wrong,' Quinn. That's a crisis. Please take me back." Rachel was trembling, sending vibrations through Quinn's whole body via their linked arms.

"Alright then, back to the sleepover."


	25. Intermission15 2 5:Back to the Sleepover

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee belongs to Fox/Ryan Murphy.

A/N 2: Thanks to Shadowcub for reviewing. I am appreciative of the criticism you've offered. A huge part of why I'm writing this story is so I can go along improving. Rest assured that I will take into account your opinion as I proceed. Here's hoping that, one way or another, we can get you back to enjoying the story

Dear Guest: thank you for reviewing also. I can certainly forsee a future where Q goes all smackdown on everyone for mistreating her Rachel. On the Mercedes' mom note: I've always seen the Jones' parents as kind but, like Rachel's dads, way too permissive. If they were to reprimand Mercedes for her behaviour I don't think it would be in front of everyone else. On the Rachel suffering note: ... Warning: there are many many more tears to be shed over the course of this story. I do think Faberry are the best couple out there, OTP for life and all that, but that's mostly because of the long, extraordinary , tear-streaked road they take to get there.

Thanks to antego2010 for reviewing and following. Rachel and Quinn will share their first (real) kiss eventually, thanks to Brittany and her plans. Hope you're still around when they do. I said this story was going to be long/move slowly.

Thanks to for reviewing. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

Thanks to Milkyme, sshannon7, jvem, and gamequeen89 for following, crazyykidd for favoriting, and Pierce22 for following and favoriting. Your nonverbal support is gladly received.

Special thanks to priscilla20 for reviewing, favoriting and following the story, and favoriting and following me as an author. Clearly I've managed to do something right for a reaction like that. I hope I can keep telling a story that you want to read.

A/N 3: I'm calling this an Intermission, instead of an Interlude, because it's in the middle of a chapter. It's still not very important to the plot, just a little side scene.

A/N 4: Further reviews, comments, suggestions, and concerns are welcome.

A/N 5: The next update ight take a long time. You have been warned.

Intermission 15.2.5: Back to the Sleepover

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"Fucking hell," Santana Lopez complained, sauntering down the steps to Mercedes basement, "How long does it take to buy Berry some carrots?" She had been the last to finish the heaping pile of calories Mercedes' mom had dropped on her plate. The woman had nagged and nagged until every last damn noodle had disappeared from the table. She hadn't let anyone else leave until the latina had choked down all her food either. San was never going to convert to Berry's meat-monk lifestyle but she was jealous of Q's lucky break. Maybe she'd be able to talk Britt into 'saving the baby animals' or something.

"Would you quit your whining?" Mercedes groaned from one of the couches along the walls, "We all waited for you. Also: stop swearing in my house. It's rude." Santana fixed her eyes on the fat girl, wondering how much furniture buckled under her weight each week. Mercedes had made it clear from the moment she joined Santana downstairs that they weren't going to get along. Fabray had been right; the traitorous diva needed to be knocked back down a peg or two and Berry was going to be too busy drooling over her new 'best friend' to put on the show they needed.

As usual, things were going to be left up to Santana.

"Oh, so that's rude now, Miss 'hell to the no?'" Santana smirked at the huge girl and sat herself down next to Brittany. "I thought that it might be rude to point out that those terrible white splotches on your jacket make you look like a killer whale. It might be rude to forget that one of your guests starts gagging if she has to look at anything that came from an animal. I, personally, find it incredibly rude to invite a whole bunch of people who have better things to do to an alleged 'party,' stuff them like the witch from Hansel and Gretel, and then leave them to languish in boredom while the resident hobbit goes to look for elevenses."

Santana shrugged, "So I didn't do any of those things. I just fucking swear." Mercedes looked dumbstruck. Sugar looked awestruck. Santana didn't know which look she liked more; she usually just wished she could strike them both.

"I don't see you offering up any ideas." Mercedes glared, slipping the offending jacket from her mountainous shoulders. Santana examined her nails, uninterested. She hadn't wanted to come. Spending an entire night with the Traitor Tones was not her idea of a fun Sunday evening. She probably wouldn't have come if she had realized that Britt was going to spend the whole time discussing some Internet nonsense with Asian number three. "Tina and I already got everything ready for the main event but we can't get that going until my parents unlock the projector and they ain't going to do that til your Cheerios get back."

"It's not really the main event if there aren't any other events," Kurt opined, earning himself his own glare.

"Then suggest something!"

"Spin the bottle." Santana hadn't even needed to think about that one. It was her old fallback plan and, after years of practice, she had learned how to get the bottle to land exactly where she wanted it. "I've kissed every boy in school at least once, except you, Madame Hummell. It's about time I started collecting the other half of the set."

"San, we can't!" Brittany gasped and Santana groaned. "Q and R aren't here." She kept forgetting about Britt's goddamned plan, mostly because she didn't care that much. Fabray had shown San to Brittany and, for that, San would support her if she was behaving herself but the dark skinned Cheerio felt no need to return the favor. Q could work out her own damn love life. Santana had her own assignments to worry about, her own girlfriend, her own degrading task for Sue.

"No way, not with you two." Sugar objected, staring in horror at Santana and Brittany, "we all know you'll be getting more out of it than we are."

"Where's Berry? I need a gold star for our fucking prize pupil here." Santana ignored Sugar muttering something about 'Aspergers' so she could take advantage of finally having Britt's attention. She didn't see what the big damn deal was anyway. So she liked the ladies, who cared? It didn't mean she was going to enjoy snogging Mercedes any more than anyone else who got caught in her jiggling rolls of fat.

"Britt's right anyway: not much point to playing without Q here. She's the hottest one I haven't made out with yet." San emphasized her point by pecking Brittany firmly on the lips. That turned quickly into frenching which turned into touching which was only interrupted by Mercedes's panicked voice.

"Any other suggestions?"

"We could play Mafia," Tina said. That was what actually got Brittany to break away from her girlfriend.

"There aren't any Italians here, Tina," the blonde girl reprimanded sternly. Sugar looked around expectantly at her club. San figured she was expecting one of them to point out her last name but no one spoke up for her and San herself couldn't be bothered. She was still hoping that Britt would stop talking and start kissing again.

"Actually, I'm one sixteenth Italian," Kurt offered, "on my mother's side."

"Great, but we still need fifteen more then." Brittany insisted.

"And I'm half Italian," Sugar huffed, obviously miffed. Santana smiled, sickly-sweet, over at where the Trouble Tones were gathered. The girl might have avoided landing in Santana's extensive bad books if she hadn't been more irritating than three Berrys. She had only formed the rival club, after all, not jumped ship.

"Then we still don't have even one full Italian. We need seven more like Kurt." Brittany said seriously. Santana covered her mouth with her hand, holding back giggles. She loved the way her girlfriend saw the world.

"We could play improv football," Kurt changed the subject.

"The hell is that?" Santana sniped. If she wasn't going to get to kiss Britt and they weren't going to let her kiss anybody else then she was at least going to enjoy shooting down everyone else's ideas. "If it has anything to do with the 'Single Ladies' dance then I'm out."

"Twenty questions?" Sugar said.

"Boring."

"Charades?" Mercedes finally came up with an idea.

"Worse."

"We could go to bed," Brittany suggested. Everyone except Santana sat there, staring at Britt in confusion as they tried to understand what she wanted.

Santana, of course, was staring for an entirely different reason.

"Later, Britt," Santana smirked, "I don't think anyone here's interested in joining in.

"We could sing," suggested Sunshine, apparently content that she didn't need to worry about Brittany's idea.

"We're already going to sing." Santana rolled her eyes, "Isn't there anything to drink in this house? I'm sure we'll get some better ideas after that." At the very least she'd be able to suggest her idea again when everyone else was too plastered to disagree. San knew she could hold her liquor better than anyone else there.

"No, no there isn't," Mercedes said, reaching that point of exasperation that Santana just loved to hear, "My parents don't drink and neither does anybody else in their house." Pounding footsteps on the other side of the wall heralded the descent of someone in the stairwell.

"Then you should have invited Puck instead of Hummell." Santana shook her head and a stupidly large bag, lying unattended on the floor, caught her eye, "Maybe we'll get lucky and Berry'll have brought a little something in her bag for us." Santana got to her feet and headed for the bag, ignoring the pathetic protests of a few of the other Gleeks. If Berry hadn't wanted people going through her stuff then she shouldn't have left it alone.

Then Santana was falling backwards, bouncing against the plush carpet. She had been bowled over by a blur of rainbow stripes and brown hair and, with the disappearance of the bag, Santana was condemned to boredom once more.

"Fucking hell..."


	26. Chapter 15 part 3: NT&TD part 3

A/N 1: As always, I own nothing. Glee is the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy.

A/N 2: Thanks to Rockinworld, Blindmoose, CR00, and elementnumber79 for following the story. Thanks also to Arial Wolf for following both the story and me as an author. I'm glad to have you all along for the ride. It's going to be  
>a long trip but I hope you enjoy at least a little something in every chapter.<p>

Thanks to TeirAnazazi for reviewing as faithfully as ever. I'm always glad to hear I've made at least one person happy when I update. :)

Thanks to SuperGirl06 for reviewing as well. All I can say is patience. All will come in its own due time.

Thanks to priscilla20 for reviewing. I'll certainly leave mini-spoilers out in the future. My apologies. I would hate to ruin the story for anyone enjoying it.

A/N 3: More feedback is always welcome. Feel free to leave reviews or contact me via PM. I promise I'll respond eventually.

A/N 4: So, can't lie, I wasn't expecting this slumber party to be half of what I've written so far. I'm going to be finishing up in the next division (part 4) but I think that, in general, chapters are going to be longer from here on out. This one was longer for a few reasons 1: more scenes I wanted to show. 2: more characters involved in the scenes. 3: a, slowly, growing understanding of the characters involved. I'm learning about who the Glee characters, particularly Quinn, are for me as I write this (I say for me because many of you probably disagree. That's ok.) and that lets me write them with a bit more detail.

Looking back on previous chapters a lot of them just seem like scenes now, scenes that only involve prototype personalities. I still wouldn't call myself a good author by any stretch of the definition but I think I'm improving. I hope to continue improving as I go along. When we get to the end of the school year I would hope to have made a place for myself in this fandom. Thanks for having accompanied me this far into the story. We've still got a long ways to go.

Enjoy!  
>~Quinchberry<p>

Chapter 15 Part 3: New Tones and Troubling Directions Part 3

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Rachel was moving, tugging at Quinn's arm, the moment the blonde had agreed to leave. It hadn't been a problem for Quinn, they were only at Wal-mart for Rachel anyway, but she was worried about her friend. Rachel was acting like the world was about to end. She actually squeaked out the beginning of a scream when she saw that there were short lines at each and every register. The tiny girl automatically made a beeline for the shortest one.

"The express lanes will still be faster," Quinn pointed out. Rachel glanced down at the jam-packed cart of the little old lady in front of them, let out another tiny noise of distress, and nearly tripped over herself as she towed Quinn towards the nearest express lane. The blonde girl might have found it funny if she weren't busy worrying about her friend's mental health.

After a few minutes, with Rachel fuming impatiently the entire time, the basket on Quinn's arm was replaced by a few plastic bags. She was immediately yanked towards the doors and she had to twist uncomfortably to avoid trampling underfoot the same greeter that had welcomed them to the store. Quinn apologetically returned the man's wave as he shrank in the distance.

The drive back to Mercedes' home didn't feel like it took nearly as long. That was partly because the conversation, if you counted strained silence as conversation, wasn't nearly as heavy and partly because Quinn could almost feel Rachel willing her to floor the gas pedal. They were back at the house in less time than it had taken them to get through the lines.

Rachel didn't even wait for Quinn to turn off the car. The moment the golden sedan had rolled to a complete stop the brunette was out the door, sprinting as though her life depended on it. The blonde just shook her head, collecting the groceries from the back of the car before she got out into the cold. The change in temperature was even more drastic than it had been leaving the Jones' house and Quinn only delayed so she could swing Rachel's door closed.

Rachel was there waiting for her, red faced and panting, with her bag clutched to her chest when Quinn elbowed her way through the door. "I'm very sorry for my rudeness, Quinn, but I only just made it in time. Santana was only seconds from my things and, seeing as how she's probably stronger than I am, I would have had quite a difficult time retrieving them." The blonde girl couldn't believe that her friend was capable of rambling while oxygen-deprived.

"However, thanks to my run and the fact that I don't think I'll be letting go of my bag for the rest of the night, I'm going to have to ask for your assistance once more. I know you've carried them the entire time thus far but could you possibly accompany me to the kitchen with my purchases? I promise that I won't detain you from your dinner any further afterwards." The strap of the bag was wrapped around Rachel's hand several times and her knuckles were a strained white from the strength with which she was gripping it.

"Of course," Quinn nodded, following her friend when she turned towards the kitchen. With Rachel wound so tightly it was probably best not to tease her any more. The brunette's frustration at Quinn carrying her bag was starting to make more sense though. The blonde didn't know how long Rachel had been keeping her diary but she had said years. Quinn had only been behaving herself for a few weeks. Rachel had only mentioned San, Britt, Mercedes, and Sugar by name but Quinn imagined that her friend wouldn't want her reading either.

That journal had to contain Rachel's thoughts on Quinn. Those wouldn't be all, of course, but they had to be in there. Quinn had made herself an unfortunately large part of the smaller girl's life. She'd be a little disappointed if she didn't feature in her friend's personal thoughts. That meant that, in those pages, Rachel would have recorded her reaction to years of Quinn bullying her, oppressing her, tormenting her.

Quinn laid Rachel's food out on the wooden counter in the kitchen, alongside opened bags of snacks and cooking materials. The smaller girl was already peeking carefully through the drawers and cupboards of the Jones' kitchen, presumably looking for whatever she needed to make her own food. Quinn couldn't help letting her eyes follow the motions of her friend's bag. The journal was there and Quinn found herself wanting to know what was written inside.

Rachel could talk all she wanted about forgiving Quinn, about never hating Quinn. She could even ask Quinn to try and forgive herself, she had that right and Quinn was going to try and do it for her friend, but none of that meant Quinn had to believe her. Rachel's real thoughts, the ones she was too kind to share, would be in that journal. If Rachel was being honest about the feelings she had had towards Quinn then, reading the journal, the blonde would be able to relax and believe her and, if not, then maybe she'd finally figure out how to actually make things better.

Possibly more importantly though, a new idea crossed Quinn's mind as Rachel pulled out bowls and blenders and utensils, that journal would at least contain the record of the previous three weeks. Quinn would be able to see what she had done right, what she was still doing wrong, why Rachel was so determined to cling to the person who had done her so much wrong. The journal could permanently lay to rest Quinn's most paranoid fears. If Rachel had done something to her brain it would be in there. If Rachel hadn't actually forgiven her it would be in there. If Rachel was, as Jacob Ben Israel had so repeatedly alleged, in love with her then she would have written it in that book.

Quinn's fingers twitched once nervously as her subconscious kept whispering all of the reasons she needed to read Rachel's journal. It wouldn't be hard. They were at a sleepover. It was almost guaranteed that Rachel would be sleeping close to her best friend. All Quinn would have to do was wait until The brunette was sleeping soundly, slip a silent hand into her bag, and skim through the pages and so much would start making sense.

Quinn had done worse things before, after all, especially to Rachel. Rachel had said that her secrets were Quinn's secrets. Quinn really really wanted to read that book...

No, Quinn told herself firmly. She was just as bad as Santana, looking for any suitable excuse to replace the real reason of 'I want to.' Was she really going to betray what trust she had painstakingly built with Rachel just because of curiosity? So soon after Rachel had praised her for changing? When she had been pressed into her undeserved thousandth chance? No. No she was not.

"Qui..." Rachel started and stopped just as quickly, "Ugh, I just realized that your name doesn't lend itself to nicknames very well." The tiny girl stewed silently for a second, pulling the groceries from their plastic bags.

"One syllable names usually don't, Rae." Quinn smiled, moving closer to Rachel's preparation area. As with the majority of Quinn's inner struggles: Rachel didn't need to know that the blonde had been obsessing over the journal. She didn't need to know that, despite her decision, Quinn was still incredibly aware of the bag's motions by Rachel's side. All Rachel needed to know was that Quinn was happy being her friend.

"Well... Then what's your second name?" Rachel asked.

Quinn raised an eye, "Charlotte," she answered, "as if you didn't know." The blonde knew Rachel's middle name. It was difficult to avoid knowing. The whole school probably knew Rachel's middle name. She had to have know Quinn's beforehand. Her obsessive personality didn't allow any other possibilities.

"Well then, Lottie..."

"You are so not allowed to call me Lottie," Quinn laughed in surprise, "That's a grandma name, Barb." Rachel shot her a glance, not an angry one though. Quinn assumed she was just making sure that her friend was only teasing.

"Charlie, then. Would you mind..."

"Veto," Quinn said, "that's a boy's name," and it was Evangeline's name for her. The only other person who used it was Judy and Quinn could hardly prevent her mother from calling her what she liked. She had no idea how to explain any of that to Rachel though.

"Rae is a boy's name!" Rachel huffed, turning away from the food to look up at Quinn.

"No," Quinn smirked, "Rae is my best friend's name," she tapped Rachel on the nose and the smaller girl's frustration melted into a smile, "Rachel is an acquaintance, a friendly one. Berry is a small irritating girl that I almost never see any more and..." Quinn's voice faltered as she remembered the plethora of other things she had called Rachel in the past, "and all those other names are things I'm never going to say again," she mumbled.

"No you're not," Rachel responded, "now cheer up. I told you I'm not permitting any more of this. You've never called me anything offensive, not in the last three weeks." Rachel spoke with finality, like she never wanted to hear the topic come up again, but she was still smiling Quinn's smile up at the blonde, "except Barb. Now," the brunette turned back towards the food, "Char, would..."

"It's just Quinn, Rae," The taller girl did her best to act as though nothing had just happened, to keep her voice firm and raised to normal levels. They were just friends, friends who had met three weeks previously. Their ugly past didn't exist, not for the Quinn Rachel wanted to see.

"That isn't fair though! I have a nickname. You need a nickname." Rachel wasn't making a whole lot of progress on her food. All she had managed to do was get everything out on the counter the girls were leaning against. That was probably because every time her hands almost found their way to anything she kept whirling to look up at Quinn.

"Deal with it," the blonde snickered, remembering one of the countless cliche sayings her father had pounded into her brain, "life isn't fair." Life wasn't fair and that freed the Fabrays, the elite, from any responsibility beyond maintaining the good fortune God had blessed them with. They could pity those who were less lucky, certainly, but they were under no obligation to help. Until very recently Quinn had been more than happy to keep with that worldview.

"You haven't won this war, Quinn Fabray," Rachel insisted, "it's only in the interest of time that I'm going to let this go for now. Now," she returned yet again to the groceries laid out across the table, pushing a cutting board towards her friend, "Quinn, would you please slice the fruits for me? I'll be preparing the salad and I assume, based on your continued presence, that you are indeed disposed to continue helping me." Quinn nodded, brushing a few stray hairs back over her shoulder as she reached for a knife.

"Thank you," Rachel said. She still sounded happy even though her voice had a note of 'finally' to it, "I only need them small enough to fit in the blender." Quinn kept nodding as she peeled a banana. That wasn't anything complicated. "I'm going to make a vegan milkshake."

"Funny," Quinn commented, "I would have thought that you would want to avoid slushie-like things."

"Slushies and milkshakes are very different things, Quinn," Rachel said, apparently serious. The brunette paused for a moment before speaking again, "Slushies are icy, hard, artificial, offensive even thanks to the general manner in which I've received them in the past." Quinn was watching Rachel, hadn't ever really stopped since coming into the kitchen, so she noticed the little glances the brunette kept making at her, "and I, fortunately, only had to deal with them at school. Milkshakes are cold as well but the similarities end there. Milkshakes are soft, creamy, natural... just delicious."

Quinn just started slicing as she watched her friend explain the differences between frozen beverages. The blonde didn't need her eyes to keep track of the knife, she had enough kitchen experience for that. That meant that she saw Rachel's eyes flicking over to her on the words 'icy,' 'hard,' and 'artificial' and again on the words 'smooth,' 'creamy,' and 'natural.' She couldn't guess what it meant so she didn't comment. Rachel was already speaking again anyway.

"But there was actually something important I wanted to talk to you about before we got all hung up on nicknames and slushies." Rachel's breathing sped up as she spoke. A normal person probably wouldn't have noticed, a regular McKinley high student wouldn't have cared, but Quinn heard the hesitant uncertainty in Rachel's voice and she cared. The blonde tensed a little, knife landing slightly harder against the cutting board as she mentally prepared herself.

"Earlier, when we were downstairs, you asked me a question," Rachel kept her voice tranquil, though Quinn could see that the course they were about to take was going to be a difficult one for the other girl. The brunette probably didn't want to run the risk of the Jones or their guests, especially Santana, barging in on them, "and I never answered because of everything that happened with dinner and then we were talking about you and the time wasn't right and I've even been looking for stupid things like nicknames and beverages to avoid talking about it now that we're back but I think I need to know."

Quinn had to strain to hear the other girl. Rachel's voice just kept getting lower and faster as she focused intensely on her salad. She was practically whispering by the time she said, "How does Shelby feel about me?"

Quinn took some time to think, imagining that they were back in the basement and Rachel was still buried against her chest. Rachel was by her side, composed, no longer crying but the emotional distress she was feeling had to be the same. Quinn didn't want to hurt the smaller girl. She wanted to answer as honestly as possible for Rachel's sake.

So, like she had originally planned, Quinn thought about Beth. She thought about how indescribably much she loved that baby girl with whom she had shared only hours. She thought about how she, McKinley's allegedly heartless ice queen, lost everything in wonder when Beth took her finger, laughed, smiled.

She thought about what that must have been like for Shelby.

Shelby was a woman who had been very much in control of her own destiny. She had several national show choir championships beneath her belt, knowledge to impart, and the sublime self confidence that only came from well-expected success. She must have been much more content with her life when Rachel had appeared than Quinn had been with Beth.

That wouldn't have been an advantage though. If Shelby had been content she would have wanted to keep things stable, at the very least integrate Rachel tidily into her ordered reality. That hadn't happened. Quinn could only imagine the mental collapse that had occurred when Shelby really saw Rachel for the first time. She could picture trophies, boyfriends, organizations, everything fading into insignificance next to the monumental tragedy of seventeen missing years.

Shelby loved Rachel. She had to. If Quinn was human enough for the mother-child bond to reach her then her glee coach certainly was as well. Shelby wouldn't have known how to respond. If the older woman were anywhere near as prideful as her daughter then she wouldn't have known how to deal with there being someone more important than herself, to herself.

So all Quinn had to do was find some way to describe those impossible, unknowable, overwhelming feelings with only words to help her.

"You're everything," Quinn started after about a minute. She continued slicing rhythmically. If Rachel wanted to project normalcy then they could do that. They could discuss one of Rachel's deepest pains as though it were the weather. "She loves you. She misses you. She's terrified of hurting you." It was easier explaining that way, with lots of little truths instead of one huge grandiose statement.

"That doesn't make any sense," Rachel said, a hard edge of frustration or fear or both creeping in on her tranquility, "she told me that she couldn't do this, couldn't see me any more. Why would she do that if she loves me? Why would she miss me if she's the one avoiding me, when she left our house the moment she found one for herself?" The tiny brunette's hands were visibly trembling as she mixed and tossed the vegetables in the bowl before her, "If she's so scared of hurting me then why does she keep doing it? Why did she make the Trouble Tones? Why does she have to take my friends away from me?"

"It's not an easy thing, Rae," Quinn said, scooting herself and her workstation a little closer to the other girl. That resentment, that fear that was lacing itself through the brunette's voice, was everything Quinn had been expecting three weeks earlier when she offered Rachel a spot on the Cheerios. "Imagine all your plans, all your Broadway dreams, just disappearing into irrelevance because you made eye contact with the right person. Imagine feeling the need to... to..." The blonde fumbled for the right word as Rachel looked at her, a few silent angry tears already present.

Quinn had never had to explain emotions before and she was finding that she wasn't very good at it. That was probably because most of what she had learned throughout her life was how to hide emotions. Quinn knew how to wrap herself in rage, indifference, and sarcasm so well that even she didn't know what she was feeling. She had no idea how to explain the love of a mother for her child.

"Restructure your life however you have to because you finally found that person," Quinn felt hoarse again, throat going dry as Rachel just stared up at her, but she regained control, "That would be terrifying enough on its own and then you think about how awful it would be to recognize all those years you missed, that you could have had with that person." Quinn fretted silently, trying to remember what her point was beneath Rachel's intense gaze, "I would have panicked too. I would have made stupid mistakes."

"I don't think that's how Shelby feels." Rachel said. Quinn didn't know if Rachel was staring at her because she was waiting, the salad looked finished, or if there was some other reason. She had thought Rachel wanted to seem normal but she was just standing there, staring, and the anger Quinn had seen was slowly fading away into something else.

"No?" She asked, ignoring the nervous confusion that she felt. She sounded confident, almost sarcastic. There shouldn't have been a trace of her inner thoughts on her face or in her voice. Rachel couldn't have gleaned that Quinn was still trying to figure out the emphasis she had placed on the word Shelby.

"No, no I don't," Rachel's new tone was somewhere halfway between accusation and revelation. She took one half-step forward, ending just within what Quinn considered her personal space.

"I think that's how you feel."

Quinn blinked once. Had she really been that obvious? "Well, yes," she admitted lamely. That was how she felt about Beth. The tiny baby had appeared and nobody, not even Russell, Judy, or Shelby, had mattered. Quinn had joined the Trouble Tones just to be with Beth. Nobody else, except Rachel, was important, "but Shelby has to be feeling something like that."

Rachel shook her head, tear-brightened brown eyes never leaving Quinn's. "No, it's not the same thing," Quinn blinked again, still confused. What was Rachel talking about? There were so many similarities between the blonde girl and Shelby, similarities that melted away into background thoughts as the pads of Rachel's fingers came to rest on Quinn's cheek, "not at all."

"But I think I've felt it too," the words seemed to hang in the air as they dripped easily from Rachel's muted pink lips. Quinn didn't question, didn't think about how absurd it was for Rachel to think she could have felt anything like a mother's love when she didn't even have a child, didn't worry about what was about to happen when she let those fingers guide her down again. Her body was purring. Her soul was content. Her thoughts and emotions were too exhausted to worry any more.

She owed Rachel whatever she wanted.

She trusted Rachel.

Hazel eyes fluttered closed and Quinn leaned forward in the darkness, keeping pace with her best friend's hand.

"Sorry I didn't get up here sooner, we had to convince Brittany that Rachel wasn't Rainbow Dash or something. I-what are you two doing?" Mercedes' voice intruded on Quinn's hazy consciousness. The blonde snapped backwards a step or two, vaguely aware of Rachel doing the same thing.

"Nothing," Rachel was, as usual, comfortable with speaking while Quinn was still reeling. That was usually because Quinn needed to analyze what had happened before she would make another move but, this time, things were different. Quinn was studiously avoiding thinking about what she might have been about to do with Rachel. As far as Quinn wanted to be concerned Rachel had spoken the truth. They weren't doing anything.

"Whatever," Mercedes said, clearly unconvinced, "you looked like my parents or the scissor sisters down there." Quinn winced at the nickname few people dared use for Santana and Brittany. Mercedes was one of the only ones willing to tangle with the latina. Quinn's expression stayed sour because she hadn't done anything. She wouldn't have done anything. It was wrong and disgusting and, most importantly, Quinn wasn't like that.

She could have cared less and, she decided, would have hardly been surprised if Rachel were a little bit gay. Rachel had two gay dads after all, it was only to be expected. The blonde got along fine with Santana and Brittany, had managed a sort-of friendship with Kurt. That wasn't what bothered Quinn.

It was that Quinn wasn't like that, not even a little. The things she had been feeling were an unfortunate product of human psychology and nothing more. She wasn't gay. She couldn't be gay. If she were gay she would have known. If she were gay Russell would have killed her. She wasn't gay so she hadn't been on the brink of doing anything with Rachel. She wouldn't have gotten caught up in a moment that led to kissing or anything else. All she had was friendship. Everything they had done was normal for best friends.

"Is Quinn ok?" Mercedes asked slowly and Quinn snapped back to the situation. She realized that her heart was racing, that her breaths were nothing more than brief gasps, that she was relying on the counter to hold her up rather than simply leaning. She immediately looked over to Rachel, who was nearly but not quite as bad as Quinn, before nodding as she glanced back to Mercedes.

"Good, I was worried about you for a second there," Mercedes said. Quinn traced her eyes over to Rachel again, "Do you guys have your music ready?" Quinn's mouth, already hanging open for easier access to the air she lacked, fell further. Mercedes was ignoring Rachel again, deliberately. Quinn didn't know if it was the personal rivalry or the Trouble Tones or both but she did know one thing.

She was sick of it.

"Cause we need it to finish up getting ready while we..."

"Are you ok, Rachel?" Quinn asked pointedly. The brunette nodded, eyes widening when she heard Quinn's tone. Quinn didn't worry too much. She wasn't pointing anything at Rachel. "Because I'd be pretty mad if I showed up to a party and they had done absolutely nothing for me."

"Excuse me?" Mercedes picked up on the bite in Quinn's voice, responding in kind.

"You heard me," Quinn would have been irritated enough with Mercedes for walking in on... nothing... no, her personal time with her busy best friend but insults, direct or otherwise, pushed her over the edge. "Rachel's been unhappy since she got here and, for once, I can honestly say that most of that isn't my fault."

"And it's mine?" Mercedes answered belligerently, "I've been doing my best, working my ass off to make sure that everyone enjoys themselves, and I've got a rebellion on my hands in the basement because you two threw off the schedule. I don't have time to worry about playing nice with Berry's ego."

Quinn smirked. Despite the time it had been since she had last used it, her HBIC persona fit like a glove. "Maybe that wouldn't have been a problem if you could have remembered that you were going to have a vegan at your party. You know what that is, after all." It might have even been a little more comfortable than it was before. She was using it to protect, to avenge rather than attack. She was filled with righteous anger instead of the selfish rage that normally fueled her.

"Quinn, this isn't worth it," Rachel said nervously. Quinn could feel the smaller girl drawing closer behind her but she didn't pay her any attention. The last time she had let Rachel make her falter mid-argument it had led to the rumors that were now filling the school. Quinn was going to protect Rachel, even if that did mean ignoring her briefly for her own good.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Mercedes crossed her arms. She sounded exasperated but not angry. She didn't want to fight with Quinn, which was just another reason why Quinn was going to win.

"Please, Mercedes," Quinn didn't even need to be livid for this argument. Smirking superiority would be enough, "we were in the same club for the entire school year and you never picked that one up?" Quinn would win because she was better than Mercedes. The large girl had repeatedly tried to climb the social ladder on her own. She had failed. Quinn would win because Mercedes just wanted to go back to her party. Quinn would win because she was right. "We had a bake sale together, Rachel's contribution was vegan-friendly. Jesse and Vocal Adrenaline egged her. You know, because vegan?" the memory only egged Quinn on.

"Quinn..." The blonde felt a tiny, gentle, hand come to rest on her shoulder, gripping tightly. She didn't lose her focus though, not then.

"Fine, I messed up," Mercedes admitted, "She doesn't seem too upset about it," Quinn could feel Rachel shifting uncomfortably and her eyes narrowed, "and you weren't either until you decided to go looking for a problem. I went out of my way to invite you here for a good time"

"You went out of your way for the most popular student in the school," Quinn scoffed, "how entirely unexpected." Mercedes' admission of guilt wasn't sufficient, not while she was still justifying herself. Quinn liked the other girl, was grateful for the massive favor she had done her the previous year, but, between friends and best friends, best friends won.

"I really do not have time for this right now," Mercedes groaned, frustrated, "I already got this talk from my ma earlier."

"Then you didn't listen very well," Quinn stepped forwards towards Mercedes, bringing Rachel with her, "because you just did the same damn thing you did earlier. I've been trying my best to cheer her up since she arrived and I think I was pretty close to doing it when you barged in here and scared the hell out of both of us." Mercedes was bigger than Quinn, much bigger, but Quinn was taller and that made her the intimidating one.

"It's my house!" Mercedes cried indignantly.

"And we're your guests," Quinn sneered, "both of us. You were only worried about me, your teammate, the popular one." Mercedes, to her credit, didn't quail under Quinn's glare. She was braver than either Karofsky or Finn. "You want me to enjoy myself? Here's how you can do it. Make sure Rachel's enjoying herself."

Mercedes' remained in sullen silence for several seconds, seconds in which Rachel tried diligently to pull Quinn away from the black diva. "Fine," she conceded, "Fine, alright, I'm sorry. I don't have time for any of this. I just need your music so I can get back downstairs before Santana kills Sugar in the pillowfight I pulled together last minute."

Quinn smirked, "It's not me you need to apologize to." If everyone else was unwilling to respect Rachel on her own merits then they'd do it from fear of Quinn. It was only fair. The unfortunate situation had only come about because of fear of Quinn anyway.

"God give me patience because if you give me strength..." Mercedes trailed off briefly, "Fine. Berry, you mind stepping out from behind your guardian so we can move along?" Rachel moved silently out into the open, hand never moving from its perch on Quinn's shoulder. "I'm sorry that we didn't have anything for you to eat, that was thoughtless of me."

Mercedes looked back to Quinn and the blonde nodded. It was good enough for the moment. They had made progress.

"Now, can you please give me your favorite album so I can get everything prepared like it needs to be?"

"Only one?" Rachel asked, tone flat. That was worrying. Quinn had a bad feeling she was in for a lecture when Mercedes left again. It didn't really matter though. Quinn would have made the same decision anyway.

"That's the idea." Mercedes was clearly still on edge

"Then I'm going to have to choose one. Give me a few minutes please. The sampler I brought with me is only a small portion of my collection but it's still extensive by most people's standards."

Quinn shot Mercedes a warning look before she could even start complaining and she just sighed, turning back to the blonde. "Yours?"

Quinn smiled sweetly, pulling Evie's iPod from her sweater pocket. She was more than happy to behave herself if Mercedes was going to start treating Rachel right, even if it was under protest.  
>"What do I do with this?"<p>

"Just choose an album and hand it to me" Mercedes said, tone every bit as flat as Rachel's. Quinn unlocked the iPod, flicking quickly through the gigantic library. She hadn't had time to go through everything, Evangeline had apparently been a bigger fan of music than she had ever let on. Rather than bother trying to choose a 'favorite' Quinn just looked for something she knew she'd be able to sing. She needed something poppy, simple, easy.

The one Sara Bareilles album on there, Kaleidoscope Heart qualified. Quinn entered into the song selection screen, passing the device to Mercedes. The other girl just slipped it into her pocket without a word. Quinn smirked at her wounded pride.

"Alright," Rachel said after minutes of silence. She had to have been hurrying; the quiet clicks of her cd cases had sped up considerably when the other two girls fell silent, "I can't say whether or not this one is my favorite but it is certainly one that I greatly enjoy. I hope that will be sufficient for your purposes Mercedes." Quinn could see the black girl's hands motioning towards the case, Rachel still hadn't handed it over, but she held herself back as Rachel continued talking, "I would ask that you handle with care. Aside from the normal wear and tear that unavoidably accumulates over time I've managed to keep my collection scratch-free."

Rachel proffered the album with both hands, clearly more or less reluctant to hand it over to one of her longtime rivals. Mercedes snatched it quickly, grumbling out a frustrated 'thank you,' but Quinn still caught sight of the title. Rachel had chosen Phantom of the Opera.

"I would appreciate it," Mercedes' voice took on an affected cordiality, "if you two could kindly finish your 'nothing' and move along to dinner. We're all waiting for you downstairs and my parents have refused to leave their room until 'Quinn and her friend are ready.'" Mercedes turned to leave the kitchen and head down the stairs but Quinn could still hear her muttering, "See if I ever throw another party again."

"Quinn Fabray," the blonde winced, pulling her face back into that self-satisfied expression she knew so well before turning to her friend. Here it came, "I do not need you causing fights for my sake." Quinn thought differently. Rachel let everyone, Quinn included, walk all over her way too easily. She might have been used to that but she didn't deserve it.

The stern, set, line of Rachel's lips melted away into a smile so breathtakingly happy that Quinn literally lost her train of thought. The contrast between the one expression and the other was overpowering, "but thank you."

"Don't worry about it," Quinn replied smoothly, though she couldn't have said under what direction her voice was operating. All of her conscious faculties were busy seeing, as if for the first time, the perfect white arc of Rachel's teeth. "It's the least I can do." The blonde had missed her smile.

"Well," Rachel seemed to be struggling and failing to not be pleased with what Quinn had done, "don't do it again. It's not worth the potential repercussions. Things will start looking up as I accrue more time on the Cheerios anyway. Just come over here. I'll help you finish the fruit." Quinn gladly moved back to be alongside her smiling friend. She was probably violating Rachel's personal space when she finished moving, they were closer together than they had been when Rachel moved forward to start nothing, but Quinn had the distinct feeling that the other girl didn't care.

"So, how are you planning on helping me with a one-person job?" Quinn asked with contented confidence, taking her knife back in hand. She had done a good deed. Rachel was by her side, unable to keep herself from beaming. That felt as good as either of the Cheerios' championships she had participated in.

"I said I'm going to help you with the fruit," Rachel corrected, "not with your job. As you so astutely noted slicing is really a chore better suited for solo work. To help you with that I'd have to guide your hands with mine or something else similarly awkward." It wasn't hard to imagine Rachel's gentle guiding fingers sliding over Quinn's pale knuckles and, though that would certainly be detrimental to their efficiency, it sounded anything but uncomfortable. "You'll be doing all the slicing tonight, Miss Fabray."

"Then how are you going to help me with the fruit, Berry?" Quinn asked, starting to slice despite the question. There were only a few fruits left anyway. They'd finish without a problem, maybe even early enough to satisfy Mercedes' injured feelings.

"Simple," Rachel responded. "I'll be here peeling what needs to be peeled and," the brunette shook gently, shoulders bouncing. Quinn almost worried before hearing her friend finish the sentence "collecting the fruit of your efforts."

Quinn snorted, losing control as a single peal of idiot laughter pushed its way past her lips. She had known that Rachel could be ridiculous but she had usually just expected the typical public over-the-top displays the tiny girl put on. She had never really gotten to know Rachel's sense of humor. She hadn't known it was awful.

Part of it might have been that kitchen. Paul and Lorraine were both terrible comedians and they were both at their worst when they were cooking. That was probably because they fed off of each other, working together to make atrocious jokes and fabulous food.

Unbidden, Lorraine's statement about her kitchen came to mind.

"This kitchen needs a team to run it right."

She had been right.

Quinn already had her partner.

Quinn remembered her foggy vision of two people happily bustling about a kitchen.

She hadn't realized that that happy couple was, in reality, just two best friends.

"There's no way you really just said that," Quinn was still snickering and Rachel was openly laughing now that the joke was out. "That was bad, Rae. No, worse than bad, it was awful."

"And one bad joke spoils the bunch?" Rachel asked, handing Quinn the last fruit: an apple. The tiny brunette broke down into renewed laughter. Quinn just rolled her eyes as she continued slicing. That one had barely even been a joke.

"Which side of the family does your sense of humor come from?" Quinn asked, sliding the apple slices along the cutting board, "I'd hate to get caught in a bad joke ambush one of these days." Quinn watched Rachel add a few scoops of vegan ice cream to the slurry of fruit, ice, and soy milk partially filling the blender. She assumed Rachel had gotten her taste for bad jokes from her fathers. The blonde knew that she had developed her own serrated, sarcastic, cutting humor thanks to Russell Fabray and the sociopolitical pundits he filled his home with.

"Daddy is much more of a jokester than Papa," Quinn waited, hoping for an actual explanation, "one moment, please. The noise is going to make it rather difficult to converse." With that the tiny diva slapped the top firmly on to the blender and started the machine.

Quinn took the opportunity to clear off the counter as the whirring blades filled the kitchen with noise. One thing she had learned over years of keeping the Fabray home spotless was that it was easier to clean things as they came instead of letting them pile up. She'd wash the dishes, dispose of the garbage, and wipe down the counters because they were done using them. She had no doubt that the basement would be a disaster when the morning came but, when it was time to clean, the Jones wouldn't have to worry about the kitchen.

"Daddy?" Quinn asked when the blender stopped. The tall girl was waiting by the sink as it filled with soapy water. The Jones had a dishwasher but the number of plates, even including those left over from everyone else's dinners, didn't justify using it. Quinn would clean up after the rest of the guests without complaint while she waited for her friend. She knew the Jones would have gotten around to it eventually, Paul and Lorraine were probably just resting while they had an excuse to do so, but the work was practically a habit for Quinn. It made her feel useful.

"Leroy," Rachel responded after a moment, "Papa, that would be Hiram, tends to take things more seriously. Here," Quinn felt something nudge against her arm and she turned. Rachel was offering her a mug filled with a pleasant looking, creamy, pink milkshake.

"Rachel, this is your food," Quinn protested. The drink looked appealing but Quinn couldn't take it from her friend. She had her own food waiting for her and even if she hadn't she wouldn't have taken Rachel's. Rachel ate a lot to keep up her energy. Quinn was used to the Cheerios' diet from hell. "That was the whole point of leaving, remember?"

"I bought enough for two, Quinn," Rachel insisted, pushing the mug forward again. Quinn turned off the sink so it wouldn't overflow, she didn't trust herself to pay enough attention while she was talking to Rachel, and turned back to her friend. "I made a second salad for you as well."

"You really didn't have to do that," Quinn said. The blonde girl was going to have enough trouble eating everything the Jones had left her on its own. She could see two heaping portions of lasagna, their salad, and a brownie securely wrapped in plastic on the table. Rachel forcing more food on her just meant that Quinn was going to have to insult one or the other by failing to finish. It wasn't a hard choice, Rachel's Quinn could hardly hurt her Rachel, but it was one she didn't want to have to make.

"I know," Quinn's worries seemed to fade into the background because Rachel was still dead set on joking. The taller girl could see it coming in the tiny shakes of the smaller girl's shoulders, the smile she was struggling to retain, the twinkle in Rachel's eyes. With the renewed promises of friendship, the recovery of her journal, and the confirmation of Quinn as her protector Rachel's sunny mood was untouchable.

Quinn decided that if protecting Rachel always made her so happy then she needed to do it more often.

"That's what makes me so nice," Quinn finished the quote under her breath along with her friend. The joke was still terrible but, despite herself, Quinn couldn't help but smile.

"The Jones left me dinner, Rae," Rachel knew she was winning, Quinn could tell. She could see that Quinn was weakening and so, instead of leaving the undeniably dangerous Quinn Fabray alone, she brandished the mug with an even bigger smile.

"It'll have chilled while we were away, Quinn, and room temperature food can be the ideal breeding ground for all sorts of terrible terrible germs even when it is so nicely protected," the brunette spared a glance for the Jones' food. "And I'd really prefer that you not get sick when there's anything I can do to prevent it. Fresh food is healthier, tastier, and it's right here in front of you."

"Please, Quinn?" that was what finally got the blonde girl. Rachel did that thing with her eyes and her voice that made it clear that, yes, even though she was smiling Rachel Berry was concerned but, no, she wasn't concerned about herself. She was worried about Quinn. There was really nothing Quinn could do when her best friend's eyes were widened just the slightest bit, when her defense-mechanism rambling kicked in and it was to help instead of keep herself safe. Quinn slowly reached and took the drink, never breaking eye contact.

"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn raised the mug to her lips and drank while Rachel, presumably content, turned and retrieved the salads and her own drink.

"It's only fair," Rachel shrugged off the thanks, "you helped me obtain and prepare everything after all. Now," she whirled about and Quinn nearly flinched. She didn't think it was smart to turn so quickly carrying dishes but Rachel kept the two plates in her hands balanced along with her mug. "Please follow me to the dining room. We'll be able to both eat and converse much more comfortably seated. Then we can tidy up and we'll rejoin the party."

"Alright," Rachel was already walking from the room when Quinn responded. The blonde followed after her, clutching the chilly mug with both of her hands. She didn't know what Rachel had been thinking, making a cold drink at night with winter coming on, but at least the creamy liquid tasted good. "Are you ready to sing?"

"Oh, yes, of course I am," Rachel nodded as she laid out the dishes and sat, "I've been practicing the songs in Phantom since the first time I saw it and, frankly, I probably wouldn't have come if I hadn't been assured of the opportunity to sing. I'm always ready." The brunette smiled, fidgeting with her fork as Quinn sat, "Go ahead," she encouraged, "try it."

Quinn dipped her own fork down into the mess of vegetables, fruits, nuts, and sauce, skewering a mouthful of lettuce and tomato. "When did you see Phantom the first time?" she asked before actually taking the bite, "or, better asked, when did your whole thing with Broadway start?"

"It's an instinctual connection," Rachel spoke immediately around a cheek full of salad. Quinn couldn't fault her though. The tiny girl was clearly excited that someone, her best friend, her Quinn, was actually asking about her life, "and Phantom's been one of my favorites since elementary school, even if I can't remember exactly when I first saw it. I'd hear someone else singing in the bathroom but I'd be too afraid to speak to them so I'd pretend they were my angel of music instead." The blonde could feel her thoughts skating along the edge of her guilt, reminding her that it was her fault that nobody cared about Rachel's life, that a little Rachel Berry had been to afraid to look for friends, but she pushed those down. Rachel wanted her to be happy.

"I have music in my blood. My fathers both sing m-my mother sings," Rachel's stutter was only just noticeable but it still bothered Quinn. She had clearly failed to make help her friend make any progress with Shelby. She'd have to try again some other time. Maybe in helping to heal one of the biggest hurts in Rachel's life she'd be able to find her way to self-forgiveness. "I was raised on Disney musicals, dance, and theater. There was really never any other way for me to go. My path's been clearly outlined for me since before I can remember."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Quinn asked. Her own life had been more than merely outlined for her. Evangeline had blazed the trail and Russell had followed directly behind, laying down cast iron rails for future Fabrays to come. Quinn, for better or worse, had never had a chance to find her own way. It had taken her sixteen years to start resenting it.

So it was strange for the blonde to hear Rachel, one of the most decidedly independent people in the world, talking about not having a choice in her own life. It was even stranger that the brunette was doing it with a smile.

"No, of course not," Rachel answered after choking down another monstrous mouthful. The tiny girl was already halfway finished with her food and Quinn had barely started. The blonde lowered her head, looking away from Rachel so she could at least try to focus on her dinner. She didn't know why Rachel was eating so fast since, when they had eaten dinner at the girl's own home, she hadn't done so before. Maybe the insecure girl was trying to appease Mercedes or, worse, maybe she was trying to appease Quinn. Maybe, Quinn put another stop to her persistent worries, Rachel was just really hungry.

"It's not some awful fate bearing down on me, Quinn," Rachel continued as though she hadn't noticed anything, "It's my destiny. I've embraced it with open arms and nothing can take it from me. The only things that have ever changed are details, some larger than others, like exactly which musicals I want to star in since I have come to realize that 'all of them' is not a practical choice." Quinn decided that, regardless of how Rachel was eating or what she had noticed, she should probably pick up the pace. The entire party was waiting on the two of them and Santana, at the very least, would be getting more frustrated by the moment.

"There's the things I want to do in my free time, visiting the Statue of Liberty might lose its charm after the third or fourth time," Quinn had trouble eating quickly though, more a mental block than anything. Puck had recorded her wolfing down breakfast once during the pregnancy. It had taken less than ten seconds for her to make him delete all evidence that she had ever eaten cereal with bacon stirred in and to swear to control herself better in the future.

"The details that have changed the most though, strangely enough, are the people I want there with me," that reclaimed Quinn's attention from her plate. Rachel was smiling Quinn's smile again. The blonde heard it before she could see it. "There's always the faceless crowds but they aren't important. They're just the final confirmation of the talent I'm already confident I possess. The things that change are the names of the people who've supported me along the way, my friends, the people I want there with me."

Quinn smiled back, still managing to keep her hands at work with the food, "Well, I'll be there." She liked that Rachel didn't look surprised. The smaller girl had already been counting on Quinn being there. "Rachel Berry on stage, in her element, should be too good to miss," the blonde would just have to hope that she hadn't been married off by the time Rachel reached her dreams. She didn't want to have to drag Finn or Sam or, improbably, Puck there with her.

"I certainly hope so," Rachel said, clearly self-satisfied. The happiness radiating from the smaller girl filled the large, mostly empty, dining room. Quinn hoped she could keep it that way. She wanted Rachel happy the same way Rachel wanted her happy. As long as the brunette kept smiling nothing else mattered. Mercedes could wait. The party could wait. All Quinn wanted to do was bask in the glow of someone she had made happy.

Rachel kept chattering until Quinn actually managed to finish all of her food. The flavor wasn't a problem, Rachel knew what she was doing, but Quinn was a slow eater. More than leftover shame from her pregnancy or the Cheerio's practiced self-denial, though, she just couldn't tear her attention from the smaller girl.

Rachel, and Quinn as well, had come to enjoy a party. They had ended up alone, eating last-minute food, in a room much too large for only two people.

And the odd part was that neither was upset about that.

Quinn was the most popular girl at the party. She should have been in the basement or, better yet, somewhere else entirely surrounded by her adoring student body. For Rachel this was a chance to finally ingratiate herself with some of the members of her club, to gain the acceptance and respect she craved. Why were they giving up their privileges and opportunities to be alone together?

Even as they gathered together their dishes and set themselves to tidying up everything felt right, natural. Quinn could feel the contentment Rachel was broadcasting and she could feel a chord deep inside herself echoing in return. This quiet happiness was part of a rhythm the blonde hadn't recognized before. Rachel was happy because Quinn was happy because Rachel was happy and so on. That was different from what Quinn had known before, where one person's happiness had to be sacrificed to feed another's.

That had to be why the dishes disappeared so quickly, why the counters were suddenly clean and the trash was sorted into the proper bins. The blonde girl wasn't used to being happy. She had always been the one called upon to sacrifice. The change was a good one and Quinn had barely noticed time passing as she listened to the pleasant babble of Rachel's voice.

"Come on, Quinn," the smaller girl urged, attaching herself to her friend's side, "Our public is waiting for us!" The tiny girl strutted towards the stairway, pulling Quinn along with her. They stopped at the top of the steps. Rachel took three deep breaths, secured her arm in Quinn's, and started a slow descent down the stairs.

The basement was an awful mess. At least one of the pillows had to have burst open during the pillowfight, Quinn blamed Santana or Brittany, because there were bits of fluff everywhere. The furniture had been violently rearranged and the other girls except Tina, who was protectively clutching her laptop in a corner, and Brittany, who was as animated as ever, looked winded.

"Thank God," Mercedes said, shooting a glance at Santana who had also opened her mouth to comment, "Tina, get the computer ready. I'll let my parents know that everybody," the large girl looked pointedly back to Quinn and Rachel, "is finally ready. Excuse me," she said in the same tone of mock-politeness she had used earlier. She pushed her way around the two friends and, moments later, Quinn could hear heavy steps pounding up the stairway.

"Quinn, Rachel, you're back, guess what!" Brittany cut Santana off this time. The tall blonde was nearly coated with pillow fluff. When she stood from her spot next to San to approach the other Cheerios she left tiny snowdrifts in her trail.

"What, B?" Quinn was still smiling. It would have been hard for her not to smile when Rachel was right there by her side, also smiling. Mercedes' tiny comment hadn't even dented the brunette girl's glow. Quinn was, apparently, enough for Rachel. The blonde girl hoped they wouldn't have to test how true that was.

"I won," Brittany announced.

"Well done, Brittany," Rachel spoke. Quinn could hear just the faintest note of sarcastic understanding in her friend's voice. That was interesting. Rachel was usually stymied by Brittany. The brunette was smart but her single-minded focus on the big picture usually kept her from bridging the disconnect to Britt's worldview, since the sweet blonde barely even operated in the present. Maybe though, like with Quinn, all Rachel needed was time. "I congratulate you for your achievement."

"And I'm sure San's very proud of you too," Quinn added quickly, "you should go get your prize." She could recognize the gleam in Santana's eyes and the way she kept trying to speak. The blonde didn't want any problems in her inner circle that night. Even if Rachel was starting to get Brittany a little better she still didn't have Santana's trust. That process, slow as it was, would have to wait until after the singing.

Quinn's plan worked though. Brittany bounced back over to Santana and whatever the latina had wanted to say got lost for at least the space of a kiss. That was more than enough time for Quinn to disengage and gently guide Rachel away from the other Cheerios and over towards Tina. The girl was focused intently on her computer screen and she had a small pile of cds and mp3 players by her side.

"You're helping Mercedes with all of this?" Quinn asked. The asian girl jumped a little, looking up from her laptop screen to see who had decided to bother her. From what Quinn understood, Tina's paths didn't cross much with those of anyone else in the glee clubs. She occasionally flirted with Mike or Artie, sometimes decided she wanted a solo, but for the most part the goth girl had always been happy to stay isolated.

Quinn, too, was usually happy to just leave Tina alone but now the asian girl had something Quinn wanted. If she was helping Mercedes with the activity setup then she had to know what they were going to be doing. That was knowledge Quinn didn't have and though it would be difficult to make any adjustments to her plans for the glee clubs or the Unholy Trinity before Mercedes got back it was still worth knowing just in case.

"No," Tina answered, "and yes and... no." Quinn couldn't smirk, she was too busy smiling, but she could still raise an eyebrow. "The sleepover was Mercedes' idea. I'm only helping with the karaoke. I'm not really doing anything. Mercedes just needed my computer because I have a copy of Artie's program."

"I want one of those," Rachel interrupted, "it's really so tedious hunting down purely instrumental versions of my favorite songs and the other alternative is to continue singing over the original recording which is, of course, less than ideal."

"You'd have to talk to Artie about that. He said he doesn't really want it getting out into the public just yet."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked. All she knew was that they were going to sing. She didn't know anything about any special 'programs.'

"Artie made a clever little karaoke program," Rachel answered. Tina turned down to her computer again, plugging Evie's iPod into one of the USB ports, "I must confess that I don't really understand how it works but what it does is take an mp3, remove any sung or spoken lyrics, and search for the written lyrics online. You could theoretically make a karaoke file for any song you own and, since you have to actually possess a copy of the music beforehand, it doesn't even violate copyright laws on its own."

"Here," Tina turned the computer around so both other girls could see it. A bare-bones program interface, Quinn noticed the name 'Artieoke' placed at the top, displayed the songs from the album the blonde had selected earlier. Tina selected the shuffle option and tapped next, "we have Sara Bareilles' 'Uncharted.'" The asian girl pulled up a Microsoft Word page and made a note of the song after eight others. Despite the large font used for each entry Quinn didn't have time to read any of the other songs before they were back to the program.

"We just push the 'process' button and the computer does most of the work on its own," Tina did just that and a miniature cartoon Artie appeared in a box in the top right corner of the screen, just above a progress bar that slowly began to fill. The drawing was yanking tape from old cassettes and the words above his head read, 'Step 1 of 3: Removing original voices.' The progress bar showed the percentage of the task completed.

"It uses some new voice recognition stuff that Artie's been working forever to get," Tina explained as they waited. "It's sometimes a little bit iffy but, if it doesn't work, there's always videos on Youtube. We could just use those, probably would have been easier to just use them to begin with, but Mercedes and Artie wanted to test this out."

The computer buzzed and a small window appeared to announce that the first part of the job was finished. It also contained a request for the user to review the new sound file before continuing. Tina tapped once at the trackpad and the music started filtering through the laptop's speakers. Quinn smiled just a little bit wider at the passable quality. She could sing to that.

"Then, using the title of the song and also the voice recognition stuff, it searches the Internet for the written lyrics." The drawing on the screen changed as Tina pressed a button labeled 'continue.' Artie now had a magnifying glass and he was carefully studying pages of sheet music. After only a few seconds the window asking for confirmation of the lyrics appeared.

"No words," Quinn mumbled the lyrics displayed on the screen, "my tears won't make any room for them... Yeah, this is it. Next." She shook her head a little when Tina looked back down to continue. The only things Mercedes had really planned were dinner and normal karaoke. Quinn supposed that that sounded a lot like what she would have expected from a Glee party that didn't include Puck but Mercedes still could have shook things up a little. The black girl and, Quinn suspected, the majority of the other glee club members would need remedial party planning classes before the next event.

Brittany could offer those, Quinn mused. The girl knew how to throw a killer party and Quinn knew that she herself couldn't do it. Fabrays were only supposed to be dignified gracious hosts upon reaching adulthood. In the teenage years they just had to be the guests of honor.

"And then, after a minute or two," Tina had been speaking but Quinn wasn't paying her much attention. The truth was that she cared very little about the technology involved. The information she had wanted was what they were going to be doing in the activity. Now that she knew what she wanted she couldn't have cared less if the set-up process involved Artie standing from his wheelchair and running laps around the room.  
>She just wanted to give her attention back to Rachel, "we'll have self-highlighting karaoke lyrics for our last song."<p>

"Fantastic!" Rachel bounced excitedly, tugging Quinn's arm up and down as she did so. Cartoon-Artie was busy scribbling away at a few sheets of paper and the progress bar was slowly filling yet again. "When are we going to begin? I've been waiting the whole night to sing."

"We've been waiting the whole night for you," Kurt commented from a few feet away where he was leaning against the wall. Quinn's sunny mood soured immediately. He had apparently caught Rachel's excited remark. Even with his stylish hat slightly squashed and pillow fluff clinging persistently to his pants the waif still had time to take a shot at his competition.

"It's not her fault," Quinn replied sharply. Kurt's sarcastic disinterest had bothered her more than Mercedes' false politeness. Mercedes had been beaten; her resentment was natural and unimportant so long as she was going to cooperate. Kurt still hadn't been cowed into submission. "Blame Mer..."

A heavy yank on her arm from an seemingly disinterested Rachel made Quinn rearrange her priorities in an instant, "Me, blame me." Rachel didn't want her to cause a scene in public. Quinn had expected her friend to be one of the primary sources of contention at the sleepover but Rachel was just chatting with Tina as though Kurt hadn't said anything at all.

Quinn didn't know how long Rachel's peacemaking tendencies would last. The singing hadn't yet started and that had always been the biggest problem area for the tiny diva. If Rachel didn't want a scene, though, then Quinn wouldn't make a scene. "It's my fault we took so long getting back from the store." She'd just change out her accusation for an apology and leave the fight that had to be fought for another day. Rachel needed protection and Quinn needed her redemption even if she was going to have to earn it behind Rachel's back.

"So if there's a problem then the problem's with me. Is there a problem, Hummell?" Rachel jerked at Quinn's arm again but the blonde ignored her. All she was doing was giving Kurt the choice to escalate or not. She was certain she'd have to confront him about Rachel at some point, most likely during Trouble Tones practice, and if he wanted to get it over with right away then she was more than willing.

Kurt and Mercedes were the ones that were going to take the most work after all. The majority of the normal students had already forgotten about 'Manhands.' The populars would slowly come to accept Rachel's new spot in the hierarchy as her position on the Cheerios solidified. Karofsky hadn't made a public display since the day the brunette joined the cheerleaders. Jacob Ben Israel could throw all the mud he wanted but none of it would stick unless one of the co-captains slipped. Santana just had to open up and let Rachel in once. Brittany had accepted her new friend faster than Quinn had. Nobody else cared that much.

So it was just the other two members of the diva triad causing problems. Quinn knew it would be ridiculous to expect everyone to adore Rachel. That was what she wanted but she knew it would never happen at Mckinley, not after everything she had done to damage the girl's reputation. She'd settle for everyone learning to behave themselves, at metaphorical gunpoint if need be.

"A problem with you and Rachel? No," Kurt said, unfazed, "it's really rather cute how quickly you've melted this year. I do have a problem with you, singular, though." Quinn prepared herself, tensing slightly. She wouldn't just need to focus on Kurt. She'd also need to be ready for interference from anybody else in the room, even Rachel, especially Rachel. "Let me begin by reminding you of the disaster that resulted last year thanks to you carrying on relationships for standing alone."

"I don't see how anything I choose to do is your business," Quinn kept her voice deadly calm. It had only taken her an instant to figure out that he was talking about Sam but even if she was wrong it wouldn't matter. Kurt and her had been close to being friends thanks to Mercedes. They had never actually gotten there. Since Quinn had returned to the top and Kurt and remained on the bottom he wasn't in a position to question any of her decisions.

"Alright, now we can get things started," Mercedes came bustling into the room, father following just behind her, and the tension melted away. Neither Quinn nor Kurt were willing to fight with Mr. Jones in the room. He wouldn't stand for it and they'd have plenty of time to work out their differences at school. "We need the printer, projector, speakers, and microphone, daddy. Thank you."

"Tina, are the songs ready to print?" Mercedes looked much happier than she had before climbing the stairs. Quinn imagined that she had taken the opportunity to vent to her parents briefly. The large girl had taken longer than she should have just retrieving her father and Quinn knew from experience that she had always felt better after talking to Paul and Lorraine.

Tina nodded, standing with her computer, and the large man moved quickly to unlock a cabinet filled with gadgets. He pulled out a microphone, setting it on the desk beside him, and flipped on the printer before moving to set up the projector. Quinn could almost feel Rachel gravitating towards the microphone and she let herself smile again. At least she could be sure that Rachel was going to enjoy herself for a little while.

Mercedes and Tina got to the desk before Rachel actually made a move though. They fussed over the computer and cables and the printer as Paul moved along to the speakers. Quinn just relaxed, holding Rachel there and moving to occupy the space Tina had left vacant. They'd both get their chance to sing soon enough. Rachel also relaxed back onto her friend, though she did keep throwing glances over to where Mercedes was preparing.

Within minutes Mercedes spoke again, moving to the center of the room beneath the projector, "Ladies and Kurt," Tina worked calmly nearby, getting everything connected, "I want to thank you all for coming to my sleepover tonight." Mr. Jones had left the room and Quinn could sense some of the tension filtering back in in his absence. Everyone knew what was coming and, for the glee clubs, singing was serious business.

It wasn't just Rachel, though the smaller girl was also intensely focused on Mercedes. Kurt, Sugar, and, Quinn realized with satisfaction, Santana were all preparing themselves for the 'non-competitive' karaoke. Tina and Mercedes were both too busy with the set-up to really read but Quinn was certain that the black girl wasn't going to dissappoint her. Quinn herself was going to do her very best for the Trouble Tones, for Beth. She could argue a little with Kurt, defend Rachel from Mercedes, but where competitions were concerned Shelby's club needed to work together. The only people who actually looked uncompetetive were Brittany, which wasn't any surprise at all, and Sunshine, who Quinn didn't know well enough to judge.

"I hope you all enjoyed dinner and I'm sorry for the delay but now we can move on to the main event!" Mercedes lifted the microphone in her hand to her lips and raised one arm to turn on the projector, which was now connected to Tina's computer by an impressive length of cable. "Is there anybody here who wants to sing?" Rachel's hand shot up immediately, blocking Quinn's view of the rest of the room. The rest of the students all answered as well, some with more enthusiasm than others.

Mercedes smiled, "Well, then you're in luck. With Tina and Artie's help I've come up with a very special version of karaoke." The projector flickered to life, casting a huge version of the image on Tina's screen against the blank wall. Giant excited words announced 'Mercedes' karaoke shuffle!' Quinn felt the slightest sense of unease slip into her stomach as she realized that she didn't know as much as she thought she did.

So Quinn listened attently as Mercedes explained the rules. That was the most important thing at the moment. She had lost Rachel's attention the moment the microphone left the cupboard and she needed to know what was expected of her. How could someone perform perfectly when they didn't know what perfect was? Quinn wasn't going to make a fool of herself just because she had wasted attention on someone who wasn't paying attention to her.

Mercedes explained that Tina had chosen and printed a song, along with the owner's name, at random from the album of each person in attendance. They were each going to pull one of the songs from the hat and that, not anything they had brought with them, would be the song they were expected to sing.

Quinn almost panicked.

She wasn't a strong singer. She barely had a passing knowledge of the pop of the day. She was certain that it took longer for her to learn the lyrics and beat of a song than anyone else in the glee clubs, except possibly Mike. What if she got assigned Mercedes' song? How would she come anywhere near the powerful belting the black diva surely would have used? What if she got assigned Rachel's song? Could her friend forgive her for destroying a Broadway classic after everything else she'd done?

The only thing that slipped past Quinn's mask was a slight widening of the eyes.

Fabrays were perfect. They didn't just lose.

She would cope.

"We're short on time," Mercedes' glance at Quinn and Rachel was almost unnoticeable, "So who wants to go first?" Rachel, of course, had her hand in the air again before the question was even asked. Quinn leaned slightly to the side so she could see Mercedes. Rachel had obviously won that.

"Alright, Rachel, come on up and pick your song," Mercedes said. She hadn't hesitated so Quinn allowed herself to relax again as her friend rose. Mercedes was happy again and she wanted to fight less than anyone else there. Quinn didn't think they'd have more problems with her, not that night. "Everybody else, gather over there beneath the lyrics. It'll be tough performing to the audience otherwise." There was an immediate rustle of motion and Quinn, too, moved along. She woudn't mind having Rachel perform to her.

"Quinn," Rachel announced with a smile, her show smile, once everyone had complied, "Uncharted." Quinn knew that Rachel was preparing behind that smile. She wasn't just competing against the Trouble Tones. Rachel would want to give the best performance of anyone there.

Quinn didn't doubt she could do it.

Mercedes flipped off the lights closer to the wall where the glee clubs were gathered, Trouble Tones on one side and New Directions on the other. Quinn didn't know if it was the lights or just Rachel's natural stage presence but she could easily picture a spotlight focusing on the smaller girl as the intro music played.

The tiny diva pointed at Tina

"Hit it."


	27. Chapter 15 part 4: NT&TD part 4

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee, and all the characters depicted herein are property of Ryan Murphy/Fox.

Lyrics are taken from A-Z lyrics.

Uncharted is property of Sara Bareilles (I probably spelled that wrong.)

Think Of Me is from the fantastic musical Phantom of the Opera which, obviously, I do not own.

Not Like The Movies is property of Katy Perry

Unwritten is property of Natasha Bedingfield (I probably spelled that one wrong too.)

A/N 2: Thanks to pugetsound, Hola24, LoveDrea, faith0004, CapeCodPhoenix, ujaf0697, Amnoex, bdrichards2, and RaphyQueer for following the story. I hope you continue enjoying my long rambling look into the mind of Quinn Fabray. We've still got quite a ways to go. Thank you all.

Thanks to jrzygurl89 for following and favoriting the story. Nice to have another Faberrier, (at least I assume you're a Faberrier,) on board. Thank you.

Thanks to Gmac62 for following and favoriting both the story and me as an author. It's always a pleasure to see those notification e-mails pop up in my inbox. Your silent appreciation is, in turn, appreciated. Thank you.

Special thanks also to my dear TeirAnazazi for reviewing three chapters (or, at least, the three other parts of this chapter.) I'm glad I can count on you enjoying the story. As long as one person is happy reading Pretending I think it's worth posting. (I would continue writing without posting just for myself.) Thank you.

A/N 3: There are some symbols in the texts in this chapter. I don't know if they'll show up on the site. My apologies if they don't.

A/N 4: So, I was just informed of the tragic death of Corey Monteith. Although it will probably never reach them I want to express my consolations to both his family and his coworkers on the Glee cast. My heart goes out in particular to the lovely Miss Michele who was, I understand, engaged to be married to him in a short period of time.

Rest in peace, Mr. Monteith.  
>You will be missed.<br>~Quinchberry

Chapter 15 Part 4: New Tones and Troubling Directions Part 4

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

(Sung) "No words"

Quinn was taken aback by Rachel's bitter intensity. The girl wasn't dancing. She just stood there, as though bracing herself. The blonde could see her friend's eyes flickering back and forth, reading and rereading the lyrics on the screen. Rachel didn't know the song by heart; she could hardly be expected to when it had been assigned to her literally seconds earlier. It wasn't surprising that she didn't have choreography prepared for a song she hadn't even brought.

"My tears won't make any room for 'em, oh  
>And it don't hurt<br>Like anything I've ever felt before"

But Rachel was doing an excellent job of substituting polished routine with emotion. Quinn had to fight the desire to just let the music absorb her attention. She wanted to keep an eye on the other students' reactions. That would be the easiest way to judge how the competition was going. There wouldn't be an official verdict, Quinn didn't think Mercedes would be giving out any prizes, but the blonde would be able to read the results written on her schoolmates' faces.

"This is no broken heart  
>No familiar scars<br>This territory goes uncharted"

That was hard, though, because Rachel was so damn magnetic. Quinn hadn't seen much of the tiny girl when she was frustrated, hadn't expected her to be able to call that emotion up on cue.

"Just me  
>In a room sunk down in a house in a town<br>And I don't breathe  
>Though I never meant to let it get away from me"<p>

It wasn't a normal frustration either, Quinn realized, not for Rachel. Rachel got 'frustrated' pretty frequently: when she didn't get a solo, when she felt like she wasn't being listened to, when someone did something she thought was unfair. Not one of those situations, though, pulled this pained lost sound from the brunette.

"Now I have too much to hold  
>Everybody has to get their hands on gold<br>And I want uncharted"

The only time Quinn could actually remember Rachel dropping to this level of hurt before was with Shelby, with Shelby and with Quinn herself. Both girls had given Rachel ample reason to feel lost, stymied. Shelby should have loved her daughter like Quinn loved Beth, kept her close and never released her once they were reunited. Quinn should have yielded earlier, should have given way to one of the smaller girl's many overtures of friendship. Those had to be the frustrating, hurtful, experiences Rachel was drawing on. She still hadn't found a way out with Shelby. It had taken her years to get through to Quinn.

But she had still found a way.

"Stuck under the ceiling  
>I made, I can't help the feeling I'm going down<br>Follow if you want, I won't just hang around  
>Like you'll show me where to go"<p>

As Rachel tore into the chorus she made it just as clear as it was in real life that she would not be beaten by her problems. Rachel Berry did not give up. She had her goals set, her destination secure, and though the trail be blurry, hidden, or never before trekked she was going to make it. She finally had Quinn's friendship, was well on her way to beating Mckinley and getting her Broadway dreams. Quinn knew if Rachel tried she could get Shelby too.

"I'm already out  
>Of foolproof ideas so don't ask me how<br>To get started  
>It's all uncharted"<p>

It was only there, a third of the way through the song, that Quinn realized that the music had swallowed her. She had let the bitter chords of Rachel's voice and the defiant flashes of her eyes carry her away for just a moment and then just a moment more. She managed, with difficulty, a glance at the other students. They all seemed just as spellbound as Quinn herself had been moments earlier. That was enough of an answer for the blonde girl. It was possible that Rachel was going to outperform each and every one of the Trouble Tones on her own.

"Each day  
>I'm countin' up the minutes 'til I get alone"<p>

Then Rachel's tone changed and Quinn's attention got drawn back. The girl didn't sound lost anymore. She sounded resigned. She knew where she was going and she knew the journey would be hard but she was used to it. In her own words, 'one grows accustomed to their lot in life with time.' She would escape the drudgery of high school eventually. It was only a matter of time.

"'Cause I can't stay  
>In the middle of it all, it's nobody's fault"<p>

Each motion Rachel made was determined, deliberate, purposeful. That was why Quinn knew the glance she received on those last three words was meant for her. Rachel didn't blame her. As far as the tiny girl was concerned all of her challenges were destiny. They weren't anybody's fault, least of all Quinn's.

"But I'm so low  
>Never knew so much I didn't know<br>Oh, everything is uncharted"

The tiny girl in the ludicrous rainbow jacket certainly had been low. Quinn didn't know how much she was learning from her slow inevitable rise to fame but the lyrics didn't have to fit perfectly. Rachel made them fit. Every gesture she made, every emotion she poured into the words as she wound up for another chorus, screamed Rachel.

"I know I'm getting nowhere  
>When I only sit and stare like I'm going down<br>Follow if you want, I won't just hang around  
>Like you'll show me where to go"<p>

That, really, was one of the reasons why Rachel had always been the best performer in the school. The years of practice helped, the genetics did too, but it was Rachel's ability to take a song and make it her own that put her over the top. Making an emotional connection with a song she had never heard before was something Quinn could only dream of doing.

"I'm already out  
>Of foolproof ideas so don't ask me how<br>To get started  
>It's all uncharted"<p>

Rachel knew what the song meant for her though. It was about Shelby and Quinn and school and her dreams. The emotions were clearly written out on her face. All Quinn had to do to figure it out was make the connection between cause and effect.

"Jump start my kaleidoscope heart  
>I love to watch the colors fade<br>They may not make sense  
>But they sure as hell made me<p>

I won't go as a passenger, no  
>Waiting for the road to be laid<br>Though I may be going down  
>I'll take in flame over burning out"<p>

That emotion, that ability, had to be why Quinn couldn't pull her eyes from her friend for another check on the other students. All she could see was Rachel's face, her brown eyes blinking closed and her lips smiling sadly.

"Compare  
>Where you are to where you wanna be<br>And you'll get  
>Nowhere"<p>

The brunette girl kept her eyes shut as she sang the line, shaking her head gently. That had to be one she remembered on her own then. The personal application was clear or, at least, Quinn thought it was.

It was the same reason the diva couldn't connect to Brittany, the same reason why Sue found her so persistently difficult to crush. Rachel couldn't compare the dreary reality of where she was to the fantasy of where she wanted to be. She could only focus on the dream. There was no room in Rachel's worldview for the possibility that she might fail. That was why Rachel endured. All the bullying and mistreatment was just another step for her.

"I'm going down  
>Follow if you want, I won't just hang around<br>Like you'll show me where to go"

Rachel's eyes shot back open, though after having sung two choruses Quinn was fairly certain her friend no longer needed the lyrics. She just wanted to sweep her audience with her gaze, turn the last part of the song into a challenge.

"I'm already out  
>Of foolproof ideas so don't ask me how<br>To get started"

Quinn could already sense the satisfaction oozing from her friend. Rachel knew just as well as Quinn did that she had nailed the song. The blonde couldn't look over to the other glee clubbers but the absence of idle chatter confirmed that they were all still watching attently.

"I'm going down  
>Follow if you want, I won't just hang around<br>Like you'll show me where to go"

There was a part of Quinn that was panicking, worried about Rachel cementing the New Directions' victory before anyone else even got a chance to sing. She ignored it. The other part of her was still enjoying Rachel's happiness. Singing was the smaller girl's element, her calling. She was never as absorbing as she was while pouring her soul into a song. Quinn would have time to worry about competing when she sang.

"I'm already out  
>Of foolproof ideas so don't ask me how<br>To get started  
>It's all uncharted<br>La la la la la"

Quinn was the first one to start clapping and she was definitely the most enthusiastic. Rachel's version of the song had easily put to shame anything her blonde best friend would have been able to pull together. The tiny brunette bowed repeatedly, basking in the well-deserved applause.

Mercedes stood up after only a few seconds, (spoken) "Thanks, Rachel," she said, gesturing to the audience. Rachel got the hint and floated happily back over to Quinn. Quinn herself shifted to more comfortably accommodate Rachel's head on her shoulder. "I'll be taking the next turn," Mercedes announced, hand already in the hat full of songs.

"Well done," Quinn murmured as Mercedes was choosing. She didn't need to speak loudly. Rachel was right there, where she belonged, and the quiet tone felt natural. It felt natural the same way it felt natural to tilt her head slightly closer to Rachel's ear as she spoke, the same way that she could almost feel the light blush that tinted her friend's cheeks before seeing it.

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel sounded slightly distracted, a radical change from the focus she had just been clinging to while performing. The blonde wondered if that had something to do with the arm she was snaking around the brunette's shoulder, pulling her just a little bit tighter, or maybe the friendly kiss she left just behind her ear. She knew that those sorts of things usually distracted her when Rachel did them.

"Hell to the no!" Mercedes yanked Quinn's attention back to the party, "There is no way I'm singing that!" The black diva was clutching a, now crumpled, paper tightly in her fist.

"We only converted one song a person," Tina pointed out, glancing up from her computer screen. Quinn tipped her head back so she could see the projection just in time to see Tina selecting the file for 'Barbie Girl.'

Despite herself, Quinn smiled. The song was just amusingly stupid. She wondered who had brought it. The situation was bad for the Trouble Tones though. Rachel had just given a stunning performance and Mercedes was having a, somewhat justified, tantrum.

"I don't care, choose another one from the same album and change it." Now that Rachel was no longer involved Quinn could sympathize much more with her aggravated teammate. Mercedes had been having a hard day. The stresses of party planning plus homework would have been enough on their own; Mercedes had still had to deal with more. Quinn blushed a little, ducking her face down behind Rachel's head to hide it. Most of that 'more' had been her fault.

Quinn had intentionally sown seeds of contention in what was supposed to be a peaceful party. Quinn had caused most of the delay in the grocery run. Quinn had actually confronted Mercedes when the larger girl was already at the end of her rope. She didn't necessarily regret any of those actions. Most of them had been, in one way or another, to help Rachel and Rachel undeniably needed Quinn's help.

"Excuse me," Sugar interjected, "I was only told that we needed to bring a favorite song. That's it!" Quinn didn't pay much attention to the argument. She couldn't do much to keep it from escalating beyond preventing Rachel, by gentle restraint and soft distracting touches, from joining in. Quinn realized that she had overfocused on her tiny friend again. Not in that moment but throughout the night. Rachel needed her help, yes, and Quinn wanted to give it to her but the Trouble Tones needed her help too.

"Then we'll look up the damn album online and pick a song from there." Quinn needed to get along with Rachel and Mercedes, Kurt, and Sugar. The Trouble Tones wouldn't perform well if they weren't cooperating and she couldn't help Beth if the Trouble Tones weren't performing well. The blonde sighed into Rachel's hair, earning her a momentary concerned glance from the smaller girl. Quinn just shook her head briefly; she wasn't looking forward to adding another balancing act to her workload.

She already had to deal with the tug of war between Sue and Russell. 'Be Rachel's best friend' and 'avoid that Berry girl at all costs' were pretty different instructions. Jacob Ben Israel had made her love life even more important than it would have been on its own. It wasn't just a loss of popularity Quinn was facing if the rumors spread too far. She didn't even want to imagine the possibility of her father hearing about a lesbian tryst between her and Rachel Berry. She made a mental note to move things along quicker with Sam.

Quinn had to help Rachel befriend the Cheerios, had to live up to Evie's example, had to keep herself on friendly terms with what felt like every organization in the school. She had to please Russell, please Sue, prepare a solo for Shelby, keep the likes of Karofsky and his ilk firmly under her thumb. She had to keep an eye on her new social climber boyfriend, her backstabbing social climber childhood friend, and Jacob Ben Israel. She had to keep Finn and Rachel far away from each other. She had to spend time connecting to Beth. Anyone who said being popular was easy didn't understand. She had to do a million things all at once.

She had to rest.

"Not willing to play by your own rules?" Santana sounded bored but Quinn knew better, "I guess I should have expected as much from one of the Trouble Tones. If you can't handle something you just run off and get a new one." Santana wanted to needle Mercedes and, presumably, all of the Trouble Tones at once but Quinn couldn't have been happier.

"Oh, it is on," Mercedes muttered, tensing. Quinn smiled, glad she was still well hidden behind Rachel's head. The latina had just taken care of one of her immediate problems for her. "Tina, hit it!" The blonde couldn't have thought of a better way to spur Mercedes into action, to get the black girl to sing and sing well.

That didn't mean that Quinn was going to pay attention to the performance though. In fact, she was doing her best to ignore Mercedes as she spat out 'Hi Barbie! Hiya Ken!' She was just grateful for the moment she could take to relax. Santana had unwittingly given her the rest she had only just decided she needed. If Mercedes was going to try her best, idiot song be damned, that left Quinn free to snuggle down a little further into Rachel.

None of those things Quinn had listed, none of her duties and responsibilities, were important right then. She was at a party. There was very little she could do beyond making sure that the Trouble Tones at least tried. She could focus on Rachel. That was ok. Rachel was important on her own. In a way, Rachel was rest for Quinn.

Many of Quinn's most delicate situations involved the tiny girl who was shifting against Quinn's side but that wasn't her fault. External factors were what had decided that Rachel Berry would be the central conflict point in Quinn's life that year. Rachel didn't want Quinn to worry or stress. Rachel wanted Quinn to leave the old her in the past, to forget about her past mistakes and obligations. Rachel just wanted her Quinn to be happy with her.

Quinn couldn't do that, not one hundred percent. The consequences she could foresee, rippling out from the act of her wiping away everything and really starting over with Rachel, were catastrophic. The Cheerios would be fine, thanks to recent changes, but they were the only thing. If Quinn treated Sam the way she really felt about him, discarded him, that would all but confirm the rumors about the co-captains. If those rumors were confirmed, no matter how falsely, then things would eventually snowball to the point where Russell heard about it. Quinn could easily see that leading to her out on the streets again, miserably looking for anywhere she could stay.

She wasn't willing to live that a second time.

She'd just enjoy the momentary rest her best friend offered as frequently as she could. The blonde didn't have anything to worry about. Mercedes was actually singing passably, which was a testament of the black diva's talent, and one of Rachel's hands had found its way to Quinn's back. Quinn could feel her friend start to scratch idly and that was when she actually relaxed the way she wanted to, letting go of thought and worry and just feeling.

That lasted about twenty seconds.

A vibrating buzz from Quinn's chest made both girls jump slightly. The blonde's hand was in her bra a second later, fishing for her phone. She wondered who could possibly be texting her. Almost the entirety of the glee clubs was already present and, ever since Quinn had been assigned as Rachel's protector, most of the Cheerios had left her in disdainful silence.

-1 new message from Samuel Evans-

Quinn opened the message, only slightly annoyed. Rachel had repositioned herself to lie more against Quinn than alongside her and the blonde was hardly going to complain about that.

-Hey, pretty lady, looking forward to seeing you in school tomorrow. I've got a little present for you. #€ -

Quinn exhaled before responding. She was glad she did because it apparently prompted Rachel to reach around and resume her backscratch. She didn't know if Sam was ever going to make sense. She was almost afraid to ask for clarification.

-And what would that be?-

The response came quickly, not as quickly as one of Rachel's would have but quickly nonetheless.

-That would be telling. You'll just have to wait and see. This is Cthulhu though C:€-

Quinn didn't know what that little figure was supposed to be either, much less how she was supposed to pronounce its gibberish name. She was souring on the conversation quickly. If Sam didn't have anything important to tell her then he shouldn't have been wasting her time.

-I don't like surprises, Sam.-

He'd need to learn that quickly. Quinn did not like having to adapt at the last second when she shouldn't have had to. Surprises, even 'romantic' or 'cute' ones were unacceptable in her love life. It was necessary. Quinn's entire relationship was a show, an act put on for the student body to see. She wanted to know the script well ahead of time.

-We'll see. Live long and prosper!-

Quinn snapped her phone shut in frustration. That didn't even merit a response. She still had no idea how someone could be climbing the ranks of popularity and still be such a dork. In the McKinley high political ecosystem it really didn't make any sense. Quinn was glad he wanted to talk to her tomorrow. They were going to have to start polishing out the rough patches of his personality.

That was something for tomorrow though. All Quinn wanted was to relax, to stop worrying for a few seconds about politics and competitions, and Mercedes was finishing her song.

It hadn't been bad and that was impressive in its own right. It didn't compare to Rachel's stellar opening number but that would have been impossible anyway. Quinn silently cursed Sugar for being so difficult. All the girl had done was bring a song she could sing, 'Barbie Girl' could hardly be considered difficult, but there had to have been something less humiliating to choose.

Quinn started clapping first again, reaching her arms around Rachel a little awkwardly to do so. She was somewhat surprised to see that Sugar responded nearly as quickly as she did. Either the irritating girl had actually enjoyed the performance or she had understood, to some extent, the tension in the room. The second option was possible. Talentless as she was, Sugar had always been able to sense conflict.

Mercedes stood firmly in place, accepting the scattered applause. She didn't look as upset as Quinn had expected with the halfhearted response. The African-American girl had been trying her best and her rival had just gotten an impressive ovation. She should have wanted more.

"Who's next?" Mercedes asked. Quinn understood though. There was no real anger, just a tiny bit of frustration, in Mercedes' voice because part of her still didn't want to recognize the karaoke as a competition. She didn't want to see what Quinn saw. She didn't want to notice that, with the exception of Quinn and Rachel, the two clubs had spent the majority of the party separated from each other.

That was ok. Mercedes had performed as well as she could under the circumstances. She had done her part for the Trouble Tones. If she wanted to pretend that nothing was happening then Quinn wouldn't stop her.

No one stood up to replace Mercedes at the microphone immediately. Quinn supposed that the remaining students were a little worried about getting blindsided the way Mercedes had. She herself was a little occupied by the way Rachel was nuzzling back into her arms. The tiny girl was radiating contentedness, self-satisfied smile painted on her lips. She had been lucky when she pulled Quinn's song out of the hat nobody else wanted to try their luck the same way.

Then Sugar got up from the floor, made her way over to Mercedes, and plunged her hand into the hat. "Fine," she exhaled, rummaging around in the papers, "I was going to go last and finish this with some real star quality," Rachel caught the snide insult, pressed forward against Quinn's arms as though she were going to rise, but Quinn just hugged her tighter and she fell backwards against her friend's chest. The blonde knew that, unlike Kurt and Mercedes, there was no point fighting with Sugar and her 'Aspergers.'

"But, since all of you are too chicken to take your turns like you should, I'll go now." Sugar yanked her hand from the hat, yanked the microphone from Mercedes, and read, "Rachel, Think of Me. Music!"

"No," Rachel mumbled so quietly that Quinn was sure she was the only other person that had heard it. The smug grin had disappeared and Quinn wasn't sure if the new look on her friend's face was one of terror or of disgust.

The music started playing and Rachel just kept repeating 'no' over and over again. She struggled halfheartedly against the confines of Quinn's arms.

"Rachel, what's wrong?" The blonde moved her head down so it was alongside the brunette's, whispering calmly. Despite the distraction of Rachel's distress the music still sounded oddly familiar in Quinn's ears.

"That's my song, that's one of my songs, Quinn," Rachel was nearly panicking. Quinn counted herself as lucky that her overdramatic friend wasn't already shouting, "and she's going to ruin it." It was easy to imagine an angry Rachel berating someone for mangling one of her favorite songs.

"Then," Quinn's mind searched for a quick solution. She had planned on the event turning competitive but she didn't want it getting out of hand. Rachel strangling Sugar qualified as out of hand. "Don't pay attention."

"What?" The furrow in Rachel's brow dipped yet deeper.

"Sing," Quinn commanded, "sing for me. Quietly," she amended quickly. Heaven knew that she'd prefer another performance from Rachel, even a limited one, to anything Sugar would be able to perform. Understanding rippled across Rachel's face just in time and she managed to start from the beginning, almost covering up the sharp screech of Sugar's voice.

(sung)"Think of me, think of me fondly  
>When we've said goodbye<br>Remember me once in a while  
>Please promise me, you'll try"<p>

Quinn found her memories stirring as the girl in her arms sang. Rachel wasn't looking up at the lyrics. She didn't need them. She was looking up at Quinn. That wasn't the memory though. It was just a distraction, an extremely compelling one. Quinn let her eyes close, allowing darkness to lend her its clarity, and found that she too knew the lyrics to this song.

"Then you'll find that once again you long  
>To take your heart back and be free<br>If you'll ever find a moment  
>Spare a thought for me"<p>

Quinn's lips moved in time with the music and the feel of the familiar words slipping over her tongue and through her teeth only prompted more memories. She remembered her childhood, the elementary school years, back when she had actually had something that approximated a real relationship with her father.

She remembered that there had been a time when Russell had had 'cultured' on his list of essential Fabray daughter attributes. There had been a time when he would take his daughters to ball games and museums and even, occasionally, musicals. All of that had been before Evangeline had entered high school. Russell had realized fairly quickly that things had changed since his own high school career. The intellectual girls, drama queens, and glee participants had fallen to the bottom and so what the Fabray girls absolutely did not need was more culture.

He had tried to quash the same desire he himself had originally implanted in his daughters. He had done so so efficiently that Quinn had had no functional knowledge of show tunes when she found her way to glee the first time.

"We never said our love was evergreen  
>Or as unchanging as the sea<br>But if you can still remember  
>Stop and think of me."<p>

Quinn could still remember, though, seeing Phantom with her father. It hadn't been on Broadway but the Carmel High Theatre Society, under the watchful direction of Shelby Corcoran at that time, was probably the best group of student performers a high school could pull together. Both Quinn and Evie had gone home more than impressed. Quinn remembered singing at home, singing at the park, singing at school.

"Think of all the things  
>We've shared and seen<br>Don't think about the way  
>Things might have been"<p>

The sweet tones of Rachel's voice, so much closer and more immediate than Sugar's barely improved wailing, started stirring memories of its own. It wasn't only the words to the song that sounded familiar. It was the voice singing them as well.

Quinn remembered singing at school again but, this time, the memory was sharper. She hadn't sung everywhere there, even in elementary school Quinn had been conscious of her image, but the bathrooms had always felt like a refuge and a safe zone. Even before she had reached high school and, with Sue's permission, made that impression an official decree she had always felt free to relax within those walls.

So Quinn had sung in the bathroom during lunch and recess. The image of herself as a child, singing quietly as she sat in a bathroom stall, was only embarrassing to Quinn in the present but that was ok. Nobody would ever know. Nobody except for Quinn's sometimes partner...

The blonde girl couldn't help herself. She sung along with both Sugar and Rachel, joining her voice quietly to those of the girls performing.

"Think of me, think of me waking  
>Silent and resigned<br>Imagine me trying too hard  
>To put you from my mind"<p>

Young Quinn Fabray hadn't always sung alone. Some days she had been joined by another voice, a voice that absolutely dwarfed her own, singing the same words. Singing the same words that the same voices, only a few years more mature than they had been, were singing now.

It had been Rachel. Even all those years ago it had been that same annoying, aggravating, unpopular girl who had shared in some of Quinn's most private moments. Quinn couldn't believe that she hadn't remembered earlier. Rachel herself had commented on the same events over dinner.

Quinn had just been too absorbed in her own guilt to really remember. She had always been too absorbed by something, Finn or Beth or the Cheerios, to recognize that the voice of her archrival sounded very much like the voice of her unknown friend. It had been practically intentional. Quinn had stifled all non-negative feelings about Rachel until only very recently. It had taken the same song sung by the same people, in finally favorable circumstances, to jog her memory.

"Recall those days, look back on all those times  
>Think of those things we'll never do<br>There will never be a day  
>When I won't think of you"<p>

The blonde hadn't realized that Rachel had left her to sing the last several lines alone. She allowed her eyes to open as the music lulled slightly.

"Can it be?"

Quinn kept going, assured that she was keeping time with the soundtrack by Sugar's shouts. Rachel was staring up at her with wonder, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Quinn knew, she just knew, that her friend was realizing the exact same thing.

"Can it be Christine?"

If Quinn was, as Rachel had once pretended, the Angel of Music, the Phantom, then that only left one person for Rachel herself to be. The tiny girl would have always cast herself as the lead female role anyway. She had to be Christine.

Still looking up at Quinn with new enlightenment, Rachel nodded.

"Bravo"

Both girls whispered in unison and, when the music picked back up, they were singing together once again.

"Long ago, it seems so long ago  
>How young and innocent we were<br>She may not remember me  
>But I remember her"<p>

They both remembered each other. Quinn could only imagine that she was wearing an expression similar to the one spread across Rachel's face. She was too distracted to verify or even care. Sugar, the New Directions, the Trouble Tones, everything faded into the background as revelation and memory took priority.

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade  
>They have their seasons, so do we<br>But please promise me that sometimes  
>You will think of me"<p>

Quinn was not the first to clap at the end of the song. She was too busy listening to the way Rachel quietly held the final note. She didn't start clapping when that had finished either. Sugar, even with the slight improvement that Shelby had managed to drag from her, didn't deserve it.

There were more important things to worry about anyway.

(spoken)"It was you," Quinn said slowly. She actually loosened her embrace to allow the other girl to turn and face her better. For the entirety of the song Rachel had had her head tilted to stare at her friend. That was adorable but it couldn't have been very comfortable.

"It was you," repeated Rachel, sounding slightly dazed, "it's always been you and I never even considered the possibility." Santana rose, removed Sugar from the spot where she was protesting her lack of applause, and jammed her hand into the hat. Quinn didn't hear what her friend would be singing though. All she could hear was Rachel's voice repeating, "It's always been you."

"I guess you've been my friend for longer than I thought," Quinn commented weakly. She wasn't sure how to feel. It seemed like at every turn her life was more intertwined with Rachel's. She was happy to go building something new with the other girl. She didn't know how she felt about them having always been so closely linked without realizing it.

Quinn recognized the beat of the song that started playing, Britney Spear's Toxic. That had to have been Kurt's contribution to the musical potluck, the boy was slightly obsessed. It was also an excellent pick for Santana. It seemed like luck was on the New Directions' side.

Quinn remembered that she wanted Rachel to pay attention to this performance. She wanted her tiny friend to see the latina trying her best to absolutely stomp the competition. Finding the motivation to direct Rachel's attention back to the music was hard though when Quinn would have to direct the attention away from herself. Rachel had moved and broken Quinn's hold entirely but that was only so that they could slip their hands together.

"More than friends," Rachel said insistently. Those tiny soft hands anchored Quinn to the moment, kept her from worrying about the potential implications of being more than friends. She trusted Rachel. "You were my, my," the brunette blushed so hard that the reddish flush was visible even in the dim light, "my angel of music."

Quinn almost leaned forward to kiss the other girl on the cheek but, since Rachel was no longer quite so close, she had regained a lot of her awareness. This time around they were drawing a lot of attention. Earlier everyone had been separated out; nobody had cared about the girls off in the corner. Now, though, they were all theoretically engaged in the same activity. The two girls whispering at each other instead of paying attention to the music would be distracting enough without overt displays of physical affection.

"Your angel of music?" Quinn just let the corners of her lips quirk upwards instead. She didn't care that much what the other glee students thought, Even if all of them dedicated themselves to spreading rumors no one would believe them. She just wanted to keep her more personal moments private. That was normal. "What does that mean?"

Rachel blushed even harder.

"You can tell me," the blonde whispered, squeezing Rachel's hands gently. She wanted to know. The concept of their lives being intertwined wasn't nearly as unsettling when their fingers were wrapped together. Rachel was strong, supportive. If she had always been an important part of Quinn's life then at least Quinn knew the foundation was firm.

"No. I can't." Rachel shook her head slightly.

"Why not?"

"Because, Quinn, if I tell you then you'll start feeling guilty again and all I really want to do is help you leave the past in the past." Rachel was hard to understand when she was rambling, doubly so when she was mumbling as well, but Quinn still managed to understand. "Because whenever you think about the things the old Quinn did you freeze and close up on me. Because I want you happy, not miserable."

Quinn didn't understand. When Rachel had said 'it's always been you' she had sounded awestruck, not unhappy. "And understanding just what being an angel of music implies would make me miserable?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Quinn watched as her friend grew more exasperated. She could practically see Rachel arming her face, lips thin, eyes hard, brows furrowed, before she responded.

"That's not important." Quinn didn't know how Rachel managed to keep her tone so icy when she had been radiating astonished warmth moments earlier.

"Oh?" Quinn smirked as Rachel nodded, "Tell me anyway."

"No." The brunette's mask shook a little, the blonde could see it, so Quinn leaned in a little closer, put on the sweetest face she could muster, and whispered.

"Please."

Rachel's face contorted for a moment as she fought to keep her resolve but, after a few seconds, she broke down.

"Fine," she said, trying to grumble but failing at that as well, "fine, but you are not allowed to guilt trip yourself this time." Rachel squeezed Quinn's hands for emphasis. "The only new things you're learning about are good ones. Focus on those, not on the... Things you're already well aware of."

Quinn nodded. She'd try. She wanted to know

"Well," Rachel began, "The title itself is just because you were singing Phantom music and I didn't know who you were. The connection seems rather obvious especially since I've always identified myself with Christine." Quinn waited. Those were both things she had already guessed.

"Why it's important is where it gets a little embarrassing," the brunette confessed. "I was a young girl so, in that sense, what I did was perfectly normal but I've always prided myself on my above the norm level of maturity." Quinn kept waiting patiently. Rachel would run out of ways to stall eventually and then she'd actually have to explain something.

"So it was slightly embarrassing," Rachel continued when it became clear that Quinn had no interest in interrupting her, "that you may have sort of become my imaginary friend."

Quinn caught the laugh before it could escape. Santana would have killed her for interrupting her performance, which was really surprisingly good and probably would have been more distracting if Quinn had been interested in the gyrating and thrusting that accompanied it, even more overtly than she already was. Rachel would have killed her for making fun of her. The tiny girl already looked semi-humiliated by the admission alone. She wouldn't understand that Quinn thought what she had done was cute, not dumb.

"How?" Quinn whispered, smiling rather than laughing. That was good. She could see Rachel responding to the warmth, opening back up again.

"When I felt lonely," Rachel answered slowly, "or when I didn't have anyone to talk to," Quinn kept herself from wincing. She had known that something like that had had to be coming. Rachel didn't want her to beat herself up about it, "I'd talk to that girl from the bathroom, my angel of music, you, inside my head instead."

Rachel cocked her head slightly and Quinn could feel herself being observed. She put on the best face she could. Despite what Rachel had said and what Quinn herself had promised the blonde girl could still feel the guilt, the self-loathing, sucking at her thoughts. Rachel didn't need to know that though. Quinn could control herself and Rachel would never have to be any the wiser.

"You need another hug," Rachel announced. Before Quinn could protest or even wonder what had given her away Rachel had already moved her hands and arms to tuck herself tightly back against Quinn's body. "Want to know what the best part was?" The tiny girl spoke immediately, not giving Quinn's guilty conscience time to reject the wave of comforting relief that swept through her.

"What?" Quinn stammered, a little unsettled. She didn't like people seeing through her mask. It was a shame that her best friend was so good at it.

"You would always answer." Rachel answered.

"What?" Quinn repeated. Despite herself she was relaxing again. Rachel was there and Rachel didn't care that, at one point, thanks to Quinn she had had to rely on imaginary friends. Rachel just wanted her to feel good.

"When I would talk to my angel of music," the brunette clarified, "you would always answer. I could always imagine your voice singing something relevant. It was only my subconscious, of course, but it used your voice, Quinn. It wasn't Streisand or Menzel or Chenowith. It was always you."

Quinn shook a little, burying her head in Rachel's hair since she once again had the opportunity to do so. She breathed in deeply as she listened. Santana was on what sounded like the last round of choruses and she had definitely destroyed the song, in a good way, but she was mere background noise. Rachel was talking, complimenting Quinn, praising Quinn and that only made sense in a dream world, one filled with that same berry scent that Rachel always wore.

"So now I know for sure, Quinn Fabray, that you've always been good at singing," the tiny girl continued. She was just talking now, happy to provide the conversation even with a performance in progress. Quinn didn't mind. The honest fervor in her friend's voice was wonderful. "No more protests from you about not deserving solos, unless you're competing with me in which case I would think that the rightful soloist should be obvious. I've heard you sing quite a few more times than either of us had thought Quinn and, in addition to that, as the song goes: 'I've been alone with you inside my mind.'"

With the smell of Rachel so overpoweringly present in Quinn's head it felt easy for her to remember the next line of the song, though she didn't speak it aloud. 'And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times.' Doing that would have practically confessed her embarrassing dream to the person who had taken center stage therein. At the very least it would have lead to a conversation that Quinn never wanted to have. In addition: Rachel hadn't stopped speaking.

"Musically speaking, I have a fairly vivid imagination, Quinn. I flatter myself thinking that I would be able to picture how people would sound singing any given piece of music and my angel of music never disappointed. You never disappointed. You're better than you think you are. All you need is practice, angel." Rachel slowly got quieter as she spoke, though her excitement was still notably present in her tone of voice. Quinn wasn't sure if it was because Santana was finishing and Rachel was afraid of the other girl or if it was because, the blonde realized, it was rather late and Rachel's normal schedule would have had her asleep or if it was because Rachel hadn't wanted Quinn to hear that last word.

"What was that?" she mumbled into Rachel's hair. With her realization of the hour, a little past nine, Quinn felt some tiredness of her own weighing her down and it filtered into her voice. She'd be fine though. Her nap in the car, restless as it had been, was more than she normally took in the evening.

"Want to know what the best part is now?" Rachel asked, changing the subject.

"Sure," Quinn allowed it, "what's the best part now?" Rachel was snuggling into Quinn's sweater and it was really too cute to interrupt.

"Now I've got a nickname for you, angel."

Quinn blushed.

"I take your silence as both permission and approval," Rachel mumbled, head pillowed against the swell of Quinn's chest. Santana had finished and she, like Rachel, had given a performance that was probably objectively better than either of the ones the Trouble Tones had offered but Quinn was worried about something else.

Angel, angel, the word sound like more than a nickname. Quinn could see Russell calling Judy or Paul calling Lorraine angel. It wasn't a nickname at all. It was a pet name. Rachel had just assigned her a pet name.

Quinn didn't know why that made her so happy.

"Santana was really rather good," Rachel commented lazily, almost thinking aloud, from just below Quinn's head. Neither of them had been in a good position to clap for the other girl when she finished. "I ought to encourage that sort of effort. Inasmuch as I am unlikely to be assigned more than one solo per competition it's in the club's best interests to have everyone else in top form competing for the other slots." The tiny girl roused herself, moving from her comfortable position.

"I'll be right back. Ok, angel?" The pet name sent another giddy wave through Quinn's body and she couldn't help but nod. Giddy, Quinn realized as Rachel made her way across the floor towards Santana, was a far better word than simply happy or worried. It embraced both. There was that nervous chill of the unknown and unexpected but it was still something that could be, to a degree, enjoyable.

After all, it didn't have to mean anything that Quinn didn't want it to. A pet name wasn't much compared to the hugs and kisses they had already shared. It, like them, could take its place as one of the signs of Rachel's friendly affection. The tiny girl was much more extreme with her feelings than anyone else Quinn knew. It only made sense that some of the things generally reserved for couples would spill over into such a close friendship.

Besides, Quinn couldn't deny that there was an appeal to the idea of being Rachel's angel. Not her angel of music, the idea of someone like Quinn tutoring and teaching someone like Rachel about song was ridiculous, but she could still be a different sort of angel.

Quinn was absolutely committed to keeping Rachel safe, to making up for having been responsible for the danger for so long.

Quinn could be Rachel's guardian angel.

Time moved quickly once Quinn was, more or less, alone. The tiny girl hadn't made it back to Quinn before Kurt selected his song. Quinn didn't mind. Rachel was actually involved in a quiet conversation with the latina by her side and she had gone over there with exactly the spirit that Quinn had wanted. Even if Santana rebuffed Rachel's advances then at least the smaller girl was trying. They'd get there eventually. San was stubborn, true, but Quinn didn't know if she'd ever met a more determined person than Rachel Berry.

Kurt performed well even though Tina's song, Bowling for Soup's 1985, was absolutely not his genre. He was, at the very least, better than Mercedes trying to sing Barbie Girl or Sugar trying to sing anything at all. Quinn could rest content knowing that the Trouble Tones would have at least one respectable performance that night. Luck may have decided that the New Directions were going to win but it wouldn't be thanks to lack of effort from the opposition. They had all tried. Even Sugar had slightly improved. The only person left was Quinn.

Tina, however, was quicker to respond than the blonde girl. Quinn settled back in to relax as the girl began a passable rendition of Sunshine's song, My Heart Will Go On. Tina could sing. Quinn knew that. The Cheerio captain had actually been reduced to quiet tears during True Colors. That had had more to do with the togetherness of the club than anything else though. That had been one of the moments when the New Directions had been a family instead of a bickering group of teenagers. Those moments were why it had hurt for Quinn to leave the club, why it was terrible that she had to work to destroy it, why she still probably would have gone back if it weren't for Beth.

Glee had sometimes been more of a family for Quinn than the Fabrays.

That had only been sometimes though. The friendship had lasted until politics, relationships, or solos interfered. If glee was a family then it was certainly more dysfunctional, in its own way, than Quinn's actual family. That was why the Trouble Tones had Kurt and Mercedes, why Rachel was so ridiculously attached to her few friends, why Tina would never get a solo despite her talent. The girl could sing but she didn't have the same flair that Mercedes, Kurt, Rachel, or even Santana had.

That actually gave the asian girl a degree of freedom though. When Tina finished she didn't bother scanning the audience. She just smiled and moved back to her seat. She didn't care that she hadn't done as well as Kurt or that Mercedes' performance had shown much more effort. It was like she wasn't competing, like she didn't understand. This was the first face-off between the clubs. Everyone had to do their best to get any advantage they could.

It was notable, however, that Tina looked much happier than any of the divas who had competed. With the sole exception of Rachel, who had had other motives to enjoy herself, Tina seemed more content as she was taking her bows than anyone else there.

Quinn acknowledged that she could have been wrong; maybe Tina had understood something that she hadn't. There was certainly a competition in progress. The tension and faint hostility, the separation between the two clubs, testified of that. The detail was, though, that nobody else seemed to care how Tina had done either. Rachel was still chattering to a distinctly bored-looking Santana, the other Trouble Tones seemed like they had barely paid attention, and Brittany and Sunshine had on carefree smiles that mirrored the one on Tina's face.

Nobody, except Quinn, cared.

That was because this competition wasn't for the lightweights, Quinn reasoned. They weren't performing complex routines like the ones they'd end up using at Invitationals or Sectionals; they were singing karaoke. Solo. The only people who cared and the only people who mattered were those who were accustomed to getting star treatment and Santana, who Quinn had pushed into the whole mess.

The background singers weren't important. No one cared how Brittany was going to do. Quinn bet that nobody, except Sugar, had payed much attention to Sugar at all. Tina had felt free to have fun. She hadn't felt the need to represent anyone but herself.

Quinn could do the same.

She rose, making her way to the nearly empty hat. She assumed that nobody present except for Rachel, who Quinn thought would have payed attention anyway, knew that she had the Invitationals solo. Kurt and Mercedes would have said something earlier. Nobody thought that Quinn was going to play an important role in the coming glee club showdown. She didn't have to worry about affecting the Trouble Tones' reputation yet. Everyone knew that she was only there for Beth.

All Quinn had to represent was Quinn.

That still meant, of course, that within her sphere Quinn had to be perfect. She was still slightly nervous as she fished for one of the three lonely papers in the hat. The only possibilities remaining were the songs from Santana, Mercedes, and Brittany. Quinn knew she couldn't sing anything the black diva would have brought along.

So it was a relief, but only a momentary one, when the paper Quinn read said, "Santana, Not Like the Movies." Santana was a bit of a slacker and she hadn't initially come to the party with an intent to do anything differently. It should have been easy. Quinn couldn't recognize the song title but it should have been easy.

Then Tina managed to find her way back to the computer, the music started, and Quinn remembered a little. It wasn't the same, reality altering, sort of memory that she had had earlier but the lyrics and intro music were still familiar. Quinn had heard the song, once. The radio had been doing some kind of Katy Perry marathon and all of her songs, even the ones that normally got no airtime, were played at least once.

Quinn's first reaction was a smirk. She knew it was out of tone for the song but she couldn't help it. Santana did have a taste for pop but she usually prided herself on having less generic tastes than Katy Perry.

Her second reaction was a profound gratefulness that she wasn't going to have to sing I Kissed A Girl.

Her third reaction was to paint the expression she actually needed, neither superiority nor gratitude sufficed, as the song actually began.

(sung)"He put it on me, I put it on,  
>Like there was nothing wrong."<p>

This song wasn't a typical Katy Perry song. There was no celebrating over insane parties or immoral experiments. It wasn't the love song of Teenage Dream nor the frustrated complaint of Hot 'n Cold. It wasn't even sad in the same way Katy's other songs were sad.

Not Like the Movies was regretful but not because of anything anyone else had done.

It was regretful because the singer had made a mistake.

"It didn't fit,  
>It wasn't right.<br>Wasn't just the size."

Quinn's voice wobbled slightly as she actually lowered her eyes to the audience. Rachel was staring as intently as ever but, while distracting, that was hardly a surprise anymore. What Quinn hadn't expected was the extra attention, especially since none of it was from her fellow Trouble Tones. What reasons did Santana and, even stranger, Brittany have to watch so attently?

Quinn supposed they were just interested in seeing the HBIC humiliate herself with a song few people knew. Quinn could breathe a little now that she new that 1: the clubs wouldn't be judged as a whole based on this mockery of an event and 2: that meant that, no matter how poorly she did, she wouldn't be damaging the Trouble Tones and Beth.

Quinn still didn't want to embarrass herself though.

"They say you know,  
>When you know.<br>I don't know."

Quinn wished she had Rachel's gift. The blonde girl could make the motions and facial expressions, she could act, but she didn't know how to connect with a song the same way her friend did. Unless a song applied directly to her situation she couldn't involve herself in it. Quinn didn't feel like this song applied. She was just going through the motions.

"I didn't feel the fairytale feeling, no.  
>Am I a stupid girl for even dreaming that I could?"<p>

Because, yes, Quinn had accepted romantic offers from boys she didn't love. All of the offers she had accepted were from boys she didn't love. Puck had been a single drunken mistake. Both Finn and Sam were tools. Nobody had ever made Quinn feel like anything out of a fairytale though, princess or otherwise. Quinn hadn't expected them to.

At heart, she really wasn't a romantic. Quinn had never been permitted, had never had time, to dream about true love existing for anyone, much less herself. That was what she had been taught. Marriages, and the relationships that led up to them, were something akin to a business contract and if you were in love with or could learn to love the person you were with that was just a happy bonus. Even watching the Disney movies that littered every child's memories Russell had always been quick to point out the ways the princesses had married 'up.'

"If it's not like the movies,"

It wasn't. Quinn let some of the bitterness seep into her voice. True love's kiss and happily ever after didn't feature on her to-do list.

"That's how it should be, yeah."

Quinn didn't even know how it would feel, having that kind of romance. Would it be like the drunken haze that had brought her to Puck? Was true love anything like the icy frigidity she had had with Finn or Sam? If it really were something unfamiliar and unknown would Quinn even want it?

"When he's the one,  
>I'll come undone,<br>And my world will stop spinning"

It sounded almost frightening, losing yourself so completely to another person. It sounded like what Quinn felt for Beth, absolute devotion. Beth, though, wasn't even a year old. She couldn't abuse that trust. Placing it in another person, in a romantic partner, was only opening yourself up to be hurt. It would only work if the loyalty were mutual.

"And that's just the beginning, yeah."

And you had to build from there.

"Snowwhite said when I was young,  
>'One day my prince will come.'"<p>

It only made sense that finding that person, one who would love you the way you loved them, one who would want to build something with you, would be nigh-impossible to find in a deadbeat town like Lima. Evangeline had been lucky, maybe blessed. Richard Parson had been the son that Russell Fabray had always wanted but never had. Quinn's prospects were quite a bit bleaker.

She continued cycling through the same three boys in her mind, the only three that 'qualified' and stood out above the rest. Neither Finn, Puck, nor Sam seemed to be on the track to success and none of them had expressed or inspired that selfless devotion. No, if Quinn wanted that she'd have to look somewhere else and someone else would have to be coming for her.

"So I'll wait for that date."

And it would take time.

"They say it's hard to meet your match,  
>Gotta find my better half.<br>So we make perfect shapes."

Quinn was surprised by the silence in the room. There had been chatter through every one of the other performances. All Quinn could hear, though, was her own voice, wistful and sweet, longing for something more than she had ever let herself imagine.

Because she did want it, Quinn realized with a quiver. She blinked long and hard as a few errant tears tried to spill from her eyes. She had found it, her connection to the music for this song wasn't promising a fairytale to anybody. It was just hoping against hope, in a world with so many false leads and dead ends, that the singer might be able to find one. All the lyrics were promising was that it would be worth the sacrifice

"If stars don't align,  
>If it doesn't stop time,<br>If you can't see the sign,  
>Wait for it."<p>

Quinn hoped she could find that person. She didn't know for sure if he existed but she wanted to find him. In the respectful silence Quinn could hear those feelings echoing in her own voice. She wasn't as strong a singer as any of the divas but that didn't matter. The song didn't call for a strong singer and Quinn had connected to the music. She had immersed herself as totally as Rachel always did. She was the song.

She wanted to find the boy who she'd fit together with perfectly, with whom she could come together as easily as she did with her best friend. Surely it would need to be even more than that. True love had to be something stronger than friendship. And, if it were stronger than the life-altering way she felt about Rachel, it would be.

"One hundred percent,  
>Worth every penny spent.<br>He'll be the one that  
>Finishes your sentences."<p>

Like Paul and Lorraine did. They were in sync. They had the unity that Quinn's parents lacked. They cooked and laughed and talked together and, most importantly, they were happy. Their home was full of happiness, companionship, and love.

"If it's not like the movies,"

Quinn could feel herself getting emotional, a little desperate even. It wasn't that she didn't believe that love existed. She had plenty of examples. She just didn't know if it would ever exist for her.

"That's how it should be, yeah."

And she wanted it. That was how it should have been. Quinn didn't want to have to settle for a good prospect. She didn't want the allegedly perfect course her family had laid out for her. She had always known that but never gotten around to applying it to her love life. She wanted somebody to love, someone who would love her,

"When he's the one,  
>He'll come undone.<br>And my world will stop spinning,  
>And that's just the beginning, oh, yeah."<p>

Quinn almost faltered as she scanned the faces of her classmates, almost. There was no mockery there, no smirking sarcasm from Santana or snide superiority from Kurt. Everyone, absolutely everyone, even Sugar was paying attention as though Quinn were actually good. They were all paying attention and Quinn didn't know if she had ever felt more vulnerable.

It was like they were all staring into her soul. Quinn Fabray, the semi-invincible ice queen, was swaying before them entirely unmasked and she didn't know how many of them actually realized it. She didn't share her real feelings, except anger, with everyone else. Somehow this randomly assigned song had pulled things out of the blonde that she hadn't even known about and placed them on display.

The only place Quinn could look was Rachel. She remembered the smaller girl mentioning something about crying every time she sang a solo; was this how she felt all the time? The brunette was always so open and expressive.

How did she stand it?

Rachel had to know how Quinn was feeling in more than one way; that was why she was safe to look at. Rachel had been looking for the fairytale forever. She hadn't even stopped after getting burned twice. She knew the draw, the appeal, the allure. Quinn could trust her.

"'Cause I know you're out there,  
>And you're, you're looking for me, oh."<p>

Quinn focused, shutting out everything that wasn't her or her best friend. She couldn't pay attention to the rest or she'd risk fumbling again and, newfound conflict with her parents' agenda or no, she hadn't forgotten that she needed to be perfect. Only Rachel, only the girl who was beaming up at her rather than simply watching for entertainment, understood. She was the only one who was looking for the same thing as Quinn.

"It's a crazy idea that you were made perfectly for me  
>You'll see."<p>

They could rely on each other, help each other along until they actually found their happy endings. Quinn didn't worry about what the other students might think about her singing that line directly at Rachel. If they thought it meant anything then they were crazy. Rachel understood.

"Just like the movies.  
>That's how it will be.<br>Cinematic and dramatic with the perfect ending, oh."

Rachel was nodding slightly, almost subconsciously, and Quinn took that as agreement. They'd help bring each other to that point. Quinn would help Rachel find her someone, someone better than Finn, and Rachel would help her find hers. They'd find it together.

"It's not like the movies, oh,  
>But that's how it should be, yeah.<br>When they're the one,  
>We'll come undone,<br>And our world will stop spinning,  
>And it's just the beginning."<p>

Silence continued as the last note faded into the background, muffled by the carpet and walls. Quinn still didn't look anywhere but Rachel. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what everybody else had thought. Rachel wasn't clapping. She seemed too intent on holding eye contact to do anything that might possibly break it.

Off to the side, where the Trouble Tones were seated, a slow clap began. It spread and soon the room was filled with enthusiastic applause. Quinn snapped out of it and back to herself, breaking her gaze with Rachel. She played to the crowd, which was something she had always done much better than singing, and soon Sunshine had moved to take her place.

"Mercedes, Unwritten," Sunshine announced before Quinn had even returned to her spot. She imagined that the tiny asian hadn't wasted much time choosing. There had only been two songs left. The blonde settled in and made herself comfortable on her own as the music started. Rachel had still been sandwiched between Santana and Brittany, a position that must have irritated San a lot, and she hadn't had time to search Quinn out.

"I am unwritten,"

Quinn froze, stiffening in an instant.

"can't read my mind,"

She only glanced at Sunshine once, to confirm that it was actually her singing.

"I'm undefined"

The very next thing that Quinn did was turn to stare at Rachel. The tiny girl was fixated on Sunshine, bitter frustration etched into her face.

"I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned"

Because Sunshine could sing.

"Staring at the blank page before you  
>Open up the dirty window<br>Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find"

Sunshine could sing and she could sing well. She could sing better than Kurt and Mercedes, definitely better than Quinn.

"Reaching for something in the distance  
>So close you can almost taste it<br>Release your inhibitions"

She might have actually sung better than Rachel.

"Feel the rain on your skin  
>No one else can feel it for you<br>Only you can let it in"

Quinn hadn't known that that was possible. Rachel's talent was legendary. The only person Quinn knew that could objectively outsing the brunette was Shelby, her mother. Things made a lot more sense though.

"No one else, no one else  
>Can speak the words on your lips<br>Drench yourself in words unspoken  
>Live your life with arms wide open<br>Today is where your book begins  
>The rest is still unwritten"<p>

Rachel didn't like Sunshine because she felt threatened or jealous or both. It was the same reason why she had had periodic spats with the other divas. The difference was that Sunshine dwarfed Mercedes and Kurt and everyone else in the clubs the same way Rachel did, maybe more.

"Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines"

Quinn just wished that one of the megastars were on her team.

"We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way"

Assuming that Rachel and Sunshine could work together at all, which wasn't a guarantee in the somewhat chaotic New Directions environment, they'd wipe the floor with the Trouble Tones at any sort of competition.

"Staring at the blank page before you  
>Open up the dirty window<br>Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find"

Because, Quinn admit, they had just been thoroughly bested. She had been worried enough about beating Rachel on her own. Now they had no chance. You could forget Mercedes' effort, the improvement that Sugar had shown, and Kurt's respectable performance. Even Quinn's own, apparently surprisingly good, song absolutely paled in comparison.

"Reaching for something in the distance  
>So close you can almost taste it<br>Release your inhibitions"

It didn't even look like Sunshine was trying. She seemed more like Tina than Rachel though, Quinn admitted, the similar heritage might have had something to do with that. Where Rachel or Quinn had worked so hard to pour their hearts into the music Sunshine was just having fun.

"Feel the rain on your skin  
>No one else can feel it for you<br>Only you can let it in"

That was when Quinn realized that there was something missing. Something was just slightly off about the whole performance.

"No one else, no one else  
>Can speak the words on your lips<br>Drench yourself in words unspoken  
>Live your life with arms wide open<br>Today is where your book begins"

She didn't suspect foul play. Autotune would have been notably obvious and it would have been difficult to lip-sync some of the riffs Sunshine was doing.

"Feel the rain on your skin  
>No one else can feel it for you<br>Only you can let it in"

Quinn hoped that it wasn't just bias on her part either. She would have hated being so wrapped up in Rachel that she couldn't enjoy a good performance to its fullest just because the other girl disliked the singer.

"No one else, no one else  
>Can speak the words on your lips<br>Drench yourself in words unspoken  
>Live your life with arms wide open<br>Today is where your book begins  
>The rest is still unwritten"<p>

No, Sunshine was legitimately hitting all of the notes. She had a vocal control that Quinn couldn't imagine developing for herself. There was still something missing though. There was an emptiness to those perfect notes that the blonde didn't understand.

"Staring at the blank page before you  
>Open up the dirty window<br>Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find"

Quinn managed to pull her eyes away from Rachel's sullen glare to Sunshine's cheery smile. The girl was happy, clearly doing something she enjoyed. She wasn't worried about outperforming anyone or making a show for her club. She was just going to have fun. She didn't care.

"Reaching for something in the distance  
>So close you can almost taste it<br>Release your inhibitions"

That was it. It had to be. Sunshine didn't care. There was no connection to the music. Sunshine was singing the words, singing them better than anyone Quinn had ever heard, but there was no emotion to them.

"Feel the rain on your skin  
>No one else can feel it for you<br>Only you can let it in"

That was the difference between Sunshine and Rachel. The asian girl very well may have been a little more technically proficient than the brunette but Rachel had her own advantage. Rachel could take a song and sing it as though she had written it from personal experience. She could make that emotional connection not just for herself but for all those listening as well.

"No one else, no one else  
>Can speak the words on your lips<br>Drench yourself in words unspoken  
>Live your life with arms wide open<br>Today is where your book begins"

Quinn had barely even thought about how Sunshine felt and the song was nearly over. She was about to begin the final chorus of an inspirational song that even Quinn liked and the only impression she had left her audience was 'I'm having fun.'

"Feel the rain on your skin  
>No one else can feel it for you<br>Only you can let it in"

Quinn realized she was criticising someone many times more talented than herself, that she probably had let Rachel influence her thinking a little too much. Sunshine was good, terrifyingly so. Emotional connection or no, someone more proficient than Rachel Berry was someone to be respected.

"No one else, no one else  
>Can speak the words on your lips<br>Drench yourself in words unspoken"

It was rather a shame that both of them belonged to the other team.

"Live your life with arms wide open  
>Today is where your book begins<br>The rest is still unwritten  
>The rest is still unwritten<br>The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah"

As Sunshine finished and the New Directions girls, minus Rachel, exploded in applause Quinn quickly took a look at her teammates.

(spoken)"We're doomed," muttered Sugar. Kurt and Mercedes' facial expressions indicated the same belief. The Trouble Tones had decidedly lost the first round of the competition. There had been nothing they could have done. The New Directions had had the better songs and the better singers.

"Brittany," announced Brittany. Quinn snorted despite herself. Of course it had been Brittany, of all people, who ended up with her own song, "Die Young." Quinn hardly payed any attention though. It didn't matter now that Sunshine had destroyed the competition. Quinn was emotionally drained and it was late. It was actually a relief when, after Brittany declared that she had won once again, Paul called down the stairs to remind them all that they had school the next day.

Things got organized quickly, each person claiming their own tiny space to sleep. Quinn imagined that most of the other students were just as tired as she was. The only tiny hiccup came when Mercedes, who had admittedly been provoked, announced that Santana and Brittany would not be sleeping anywhere near one another unless it were in a different room. Quinn thought that the two other cheerleaders were just a bit more disruptive than they needed to be as they marched to the guest room.

Quinn was rather looking forward to sleep. Her sleeping bag was one of the extreme camping variety, Fabrays didn't settle for less than the best. It was warm on the snowiest nights and almost plush enough to be a mattress in its own right. She changed into her pajamas quickly, she had long since lost any worries about privacy changing in the Cheerios' locker room, said a prayer, and tucked herself in.

That was when she actually noticed Rachel setting up beside her. All the girl had, not including her star studded pajamas, was a thin blanket with sleeves. Rachel hadn't even brought along a pillow. Quinn watched in slight disbelief as the tiny girl, yawning and shivering, curled up alongside her sleeping bag.

It wasn't that cold in the basement, definitely nowhere near as chilly as it was outside, but Quinn couldn't help but feel bad for her friend. Suddenly her oversized, ridiculously insulated, sleeping bag didn't seem as comfortable as it had seconds before.

"Rae," She whispered. She didn't know if anyone had fallen asleep in such a short period of time but she didn't want to risk it.

"Quinn, it is past my bedtime," Rachel started mumbling practically automatically. Quinn could hear the shiver in the smaller girl's voice and that only made things worse. "As much as I always love speaking with you I am a little bit of what is commonly known as a grouch when I am short on sleep and I'd rather not expose everyone to that." Quinn started rolling down the zipper on her sleeping bag, undoing it completely so it seemed more like a blanket.

"I'm sure that whatever you have to say can wait until morning when I can..."

"Rae," Quinn interrupted, raising one side of the blanket with an outstretched arm, "Shut up and cone here."

Rachel actually looked at Quinn and, after a second's hesitation, was underneath the cover and a lot closer to Quinn than the blonde had originally intended.

That was okay though, reasoned Quinn's sleepy mind. Rachel was warm and she smelled lovely and her softness more than made up for the loss of cushioning plush beneath Quinn's head.

"Thank you, angel," Rachel whispered. She already sounded half asleep.

"Good night," Quinn mumbled.

Moments later she was back on a strangely familiar beach.


	28. Chapter 16: Part 1: Rebellion Part 1

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee is the property of Ryan Murphy and/or Fox

A/N 2: Thanks to lilkatemonster, Rory Stanton, clmeinscher, and divatox for following the story. You've just signed up with what's going to be one of the longest Faberry fanfictions on record. Enjoy! Thank you!

Thanks to Baileysue27 for favoriting the story. I hope you enjoy Pretending along with all the rest of us. Thank you!

Thanks to Shadowcub for reviewing. I'm pleasantly surprised that you liked the last part enough to comment. Let's hope I can keep doing things right, shall we? Thank you!

A/N 3: I am also dividing this chapter into parts to get it out to you guys faster. No worries though. It will be much shorter than the mega-chapter that was chapter 15. There should only be one more part here.

Chapter 16: Part 1: Rebellion Part 1

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

It had been a hard Monday for Quinn Fabray.

She had to admit that it had started poorly. Waking up curled around, practically spooning, Rachel Berry when the entire school was already whispering about them having a thing hadn't been something Quinn had been able to react gracefully to. In the blurry seconds before regaining full consciousness she hadn't been able to remember any of the reasons she had had for inviting Rachel beneath the covers with her. All she had known was that the brunette girl was slumbering peacefully, wrapped in her arms, and that that had felt far too nice for comfort.

Quinn's yelp of confused terror as she had rolled away had served as an alarm clock for most of the sleeping students. Rachel in particular had sat bolt upright, eyes wide and alert. That was good because, despite Mr. Jones' late-night reminder, they were late and it was bad because it was probably the least dignified that most of them had seen Quinn for a while. The blonde hadn't been able to stop thinking that, in one form or another, she had just slept with Rachel Berry.

The dreams hadn't helped. Quinn had passed some sleepless tear-filled nights before but she had never in her life woken up more tired than she had been laying down. She wasn't sure what was more embarrassing; thinking about the dreams themselves, because they had been... graphic was the polite word, or thinking about what Rachel might have been hearing from her best friend the entire night.

The point was that Quinn's rest had been more strenuous, on both a physical and an emotional level, than the entire night that had preceded it. Quinn would survive, a few of Sue's more insane Cheerio practices had tired her out more than any number of wet dreams were capable of, but it certainly didn't help her mood.

She also hadn't previously realized that she didn't share a single class with Sam, at least not on the B-day schedule. She had kept an eye out for him the entire day and he hadn't shown up. The other times when Quinn had needed him Sam had simply appeared. Now, when he had a gift for her and she needed to have a serious talk with him, he was nowhere to be found.

That was problematic. Quinn didn't want her new partner running loose for any longer than he needed to. If they were going to be linked together for any period of time, even if it were just until Quinn found her 'Mr. Happy Ending,' then he needed to behave. Quinn needed the Star Trek and Star Wars and the indecipherable little text symbols to stop, at the very least at school. What Sam did in the comfort of his own home was up to him but in the halls of Mckinley he wasn't only representing himself. Anything he did to drag himself down dragged Quinn down with him.

That would have been hard enough to deal with if Quinn weren't already in a precarious position. Last year, when she had been invincible, having a dork for a boyfriend would have only been an annoyance. This year she was vulnerable. She had had fallen from the top before and so plenty of people would want to see if they could knock her down again.

Even worse, Quinn wasn't just trying to balance herself on that slippery summit. She was trying to pull Rachel up there with her. That was especially difficult because they were still trying to extract the brunette from the mire of unpopularity, rumors, and lies that lay at the bottom of the pyramid. If Quinn wanted to avoid getting stained herself she needed Sam to help her, not be another weight dragging her down.

And he was nowhere to be found.

She was heading to her last class of the day, texting with Rachel so at least that was still normal, and hoping that Sam would be there when she was suddenly pressed forcefully back against a locker.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Karofsky?" Quinn spat at the boy. She usually tried to swear less than Santana but she figured that God would forgive the epithet this time around. David Karofsky had just shoved her against a locker and the crowd of interested students was already gathering. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with?" It was possible, unlikely but possible, that Karofsky had mistaken her for someone else. That wouldn't save him, of course, but it could get him a little leniency depending on who he had been going after.

"Yeah, Fabray," the boy hadn't just shoved Quinn either. He had her pinned against the locker, not physically touching her but making it clear that she wasn't going to be allowed to leave. A brawny arm on Quinn's right cut off her route to class and trying to find her way through the crowd to her left would make her hopelessly late. "I know exactly who I'm messing with this time."

"So you have lost your mind," Quinn commented icily. She stared imperiously at the bully, willing him to get the message and get out of the way. She was the queen. Karofsky was higher up than Jewfro or even Finn, after the fall, but he still should have been kowtowing and humbling himself in Quinn's immediate presence. Even the king's most favored knights had to respect the queen. "I guess you were finally hit by one too many linemen in your spectacular loss last week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a perfect GPA to maintain and..."

"Maybe we wouldn't have lost if your new boyfriend weren't gayer than the last one." Karofsky made no signs of moving, not even when Quinn tried to walk off. He just leered back at Quinn's superior stare as though he had made some kind of point.

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Quinn refused to respond to Karofsky's gay-baiting directly. She wasn't going to get tripped up the same way she had the last time. The jock could throw out as many slurs as he wanted but, if Quinn ignored them, they'd just be empty words. Her job was to look so effortlessly superior that the mere idea of Karofsky confronting her would be laughable. "I have a class to get to." She enunciated each word slowly.

"There, monosyllabic," she smirked, "sorry, short words. Get it this time?" The watching students tittered and Karofsky's eyes narrowed. He was far too close for comfort, closer than was appropriate, so close that Quinn could feel his frustrated angry breath against her face. It was only then, with the jock's over-cologned stench pressing against her, that she noticed his free hand slowly clenching and unclenching.

He wanted to hit her.

"What's wrong, Karofsky?" Quinn asked, voice falsely sweet. She knew next to nothing about the boy. Karofsky wasn't someone worth knowing. That made what she was doing a little bit risky. She didn't know Karofsky well enough to know how he'd respond to her manipulations, whether or not he was actually capable of hitting her. "Is the big bad cheerleader confusing you?"

"Shut up," the jock muttered angrily. Quinn didn't think that Karofsky would hit her though. He reminded her too much of somebody else she knew for that.

"Then maybe you're cranky because the new coach cut naptime from the practice schedule." Quinn smiled even broader as another current of laughter rippled through the student body. She didn't even need to be truly witty. She just had to humiliate the boy. She had to put him back in place, keep him from making any real gains.

"Be quiet!" Karofsky's fist was shaking now. He reminded Quinn of Russell, her father, but a Russell who wasn't in control of his own environment. She could picture her father as having been the exact same type of miserable, angry, unattractive bully that Karofsky was. She could imagine Karofsky's parents letting him have the run of the house the same way that Russell dominated his. It would only be at school where Karofsky had to deal with actual resistance.

The boy was a bully, plain and simple. He was used to getting his way, Quinn assumed, because his parents lacked the backbone to either control him at home or investigate his schooltime behavior. Through threat or force Karofsky was always going to get what he wanted. Quinn couldn't help but notice the parallel with herself but she forced it down. There were differences between the two of them, Quinn hurt people to protect her power and herself while Karofsky wanted power so he could hurt people, and Quinn was working on getting better.

"Did you lose another girlfriend?" It was neither a secret nor a surprise that Karofsky was a bit of a failure as a romantic. The boy had a temper and Quinn, at least, found him ugly. The only upside was that he was moderately popular and that, on its own, wasn't enough to sustain a relationship. "If this is your way of asking me then, well, I'm flattered but, firstly, I'm taken and, secondly, I'm not intere..."

"Yeah, I know you're taken, Fabgay." Quinn just sighed in exasperation. "The entire school knows that you're taken. It's hard to miss with you and Man hands hanging all over each other all the time." She understood that she probably wouldn't be able to get another word in for a while. "It's disgusting and I'm sick of it! It's like all of you people who got dragged down into that damn glee club got bitten by the gay bug and now you want to spread it to the rest of the school. Well we won't let you! I won't let you! You can beard it up with Evans all you want but we know..."

"Karofsky," Quinn's calm, crystal clear, tone cut in easily on the growing irrationality in his voice. She was sick and tired of the gay issue. She felt like it was all she ever heard about. Russell was in a near-constant uproar about the decline of moral society, Karofsky was panicking about some kind of imagined gay plague, and the entire thing was making Quinn's friendship with Rachel far more confusing than she wanted it to be. She just wanted it to go away. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"What?" Karofsky had to be catching on to the fact that his plan, whatever it had been, was not going well. He looked like a lunatic and Quinn just seemed bored, slightly irritated at most.

"You see gays lurking in every shadow, Karofsky," Quinn said, ignoring the tensing muscles in the jock's arm. "In less than one minute you've accused me, Sam, Finn, and Rachel, all people who have been more popular and higher ranking than you, of being gay."

"Because you..."

"Quiet," Quinn commanded and the entire congregation fell silent. She exulted in that silence, in the power it represented. She was always going to be queen no matter how many times Karofsky tried to knock her down. "I hadn't finished."

"What I was trying to say before you, oh so stupidly, interrupted was that this habit of yours, this little game of 'you're gay and you're gay and you're gay too,' sounds a lot like projection to me." She paused, feeling the atmosphere. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. She wondered how many students were going to end up late to class simply because they needed to see Quinn Fabray deal the killing blow to a rebellious jock.

"If it were just Kurt I could understand," she continued. The waifish boy had only ever been in a transparent closet and he had always born the brunt of Karofsky's ire. The brute couldn't leave the smaller boy alone. He was as singleminded in his pursuit of Kurt as Quinn had been in her previous persecution of Rachel. If he was going to insist on labeling Quinn a lesbian simply for making up with her longtime enemy then turning the tables was only just.

"But when you do the same exact thing with everyone who makes you angry, Karofsky, when you call everyone who gets in your way gay, that shows quite a bit about you." Quinn paused again, smirk firmly in place. She was still between Karofsky and the locker, he was still feverishly clenching his fist, but it felt like she had him trapped now.

"Do you know what projection is, Karofsky?" Quinn wasn't entirely sure herself, she had only once heard a summary of the concept, but she figured she knew more than most of the people present.

"No," Karofsky answered. Quinn could see the fear in his eyes, the anger and frustration that he just couldn't make fit into words with his limited intelligence. He did know that this was going awfully for him. That, though, wasn't enough; he should have known it was going to go awfully before doing it.

"Then I'll explain," Quinn spoke before the jock could muster up enough nerve to add anything to his 'no.' She only felt slightly guilty for enjoying the one-sided exchange as much as she was. It was justifiable in this case. She was knocking a bully much worse than her herself back down to where he belonged. Quinn was certain that if Karofsky ever managed to climb the social ladder then the slushies and dumpster dives the glee club had to deal with would seem like pleasant memories in comparison to their future torment.

"Projection is something that we all naturally do, Karofsky. It's something in our heads that makes us see our own strengths or weaknesses in other people." The boy's eyes widened as he began to understand exactly what Quinn's point was going to be. "A liar will think that everyone else is dishonest and untrustworthy, someone prideful will always wonder why the entire world is so wrapped up in itself, and you insist on calling everyone you meet gay."

"Do you understand," Quinn leaned in a little closer, stage whispering loudly enough for her audience to hear, "Gayrofsky?"

BANG!

Quinn could feel the vibrations shivering through the locker just after Karofsky's fist flew past her face but she didn't flinch. Flinching would have left Karofsky a leg to stand on, would have shown that even Quinn Fabray was a little scared of him. Now he had nothing. Quinn had shown that, behind his idiot show of rebellion, Karofsky couldn't actually do anything.

"Are we done?" she asked coolly. The truth was that, although she had been anticipating the feint, she wouldn't even have flinched for an actual swing. Karofsky hitting a girl would have destroyed what little respect he held and made Quinn into a martyr. She would have carried the black eye or broken nose as a badge of honor and left the retribution proper to the football team. They, like the Cheerios, weren't the most honorable group of kids but beating up on girls was far outside their code. Karofsky would have been lucky if any of them bothered calling the hospital when they were finished.

He knew that. Quinn knew that. That's how both of them knew that he couldn't actually hit her.

"I'll be having a talk with Coach Sylvester and Principal Figgins about your behavior today, Karofsky." Quinn pushed the arm that held her trapped down and out of the way. She continued speaking as she began to leave. "Miss Sylvester takes the security of her cheerleaders very seriously and I think they'll want to speak with your parents about your 'boundaries problems.'"

"Yours too," Karofsky muttered darkly.

Quinn didn't freeze, that also would have been giving Karofsky too much, but she did turn slowly. "What?" she asked. If he wasn't done, if there was any fight left in him, then she wasn't done either.

"You think that I haven't been to meetings like that before?" Karofsky laughed and Quinn didn't like it. He really did sound like Russell. He sounded like Russell had when he had coldly insulted Shelby Corcoran with the thing that hurt her most, the way Quinn had sounded just moments earlier. "They get both kids' parents in there and, if it comes down to it, I'd just love to have a word with daddy Fabray."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asked as the tardy bell rang and the crowd, thankfully, scattered. Watching Quinn destroy someone was a privilege not to be missed. Watching the counterattack of someone as outclassed as Karofsky was a gamble nobody was willing to take.

"I know your father, Fabray," Karofsky smirked and Quinn didn't like that either. She was supposed to be the one smirking. "We go to the same damn church." She kept her own expression neutral. Even in the absence of an audience she wasn't going to let David Karofsky, of all people, get under her skin. "You never see me because you're always up there in the front of the chapel, bright and early, and we sit in the back but I always see you."

"I see your dad get up every other month and it's always the same old boring speech about morality and tradition and protecting the youth and a bunch of other things that I don't really pay attention to." Karofsky's eyes weren't afraid anymore. He was focused and Quinn wasn't sure what to do.

"One thing I've noticed is that he really doesn't like the Berrys. I mean, I don't either, don't get me wrong." Quinn couldn't make another move until she knew where Karofsky was heading. The most important thing was staying calm. The boy's only weapon had always been his capacity to infuriate and, if he couldn't use that, everything would be fine. "No matter how many Cheerios promotions she gets, the smurf is always gonna be a smurf. But your dad really doesn't like her. It's actually kind of impressive."

"Then we have you, daddy's perfect little girl, sitting front and center as though Puckerman had never even touched you." Karofsky snorted and Quinn wondered who he was playing to. His audience was gone. That meant that all of this was meant for her and no one else. "You always did like to play the virgin, Fabray. I just didn't know it was because you were a carpet muncher until now."

"Projection, Karofsky," Quinn snapped, enjoying the way the boy's eyes bulged with anger. There might have actually been some truth to the idea based on his reactions. "Is there a point to any of this?"

"The point is, Fabray, that I don't think that daddy would be very happy finding out that his princess is sneaking around behind his back!" The calm that Karofsky had temporarily possessed vanished in an instant. "You bring me in, you report me, and yeah, maybe I'll get expelled, but it'll be worth it to bring a bitch like you down with me! I've been kicked out of schools before. I can handle it. At least I'll get the chance to tell your dad what's really going on here! When I do that it won't matter if you actually know what Berry's juices taste like or not!"

"Your dad'll kill you." Karofsky promised seriously. "Think about that before you have your little talk with Sylvester." The boy turned and stalked off down the hall, leaving Quinn alone with her thoughts.

She didn't wait around, she also had a class she needed to get to, but she couldn't stop running over the last part of the conflict in her head. Karofsky was right. If Russell found out how much time Quinn was willingly spending with Rachel there would be serious problems. Quinn could picture groundings, extra chores, lectures, maybe even a talk with the pastor to help her realize exactly why she couldn't spend time with people like the Berrys.

There was even the possibility, Quinn realized as she arrived at her history class, of a repeat of what had happened last year. She lied to the teacher, mouthing the word 'Sylvester' as an explanation for her tardiness. The teacher let her sit without a second glance. That was just one of the perks of Cheerio captaincy. Most of the other teachers lived in terror of the mad coach and were more than happy to let her do as she pleased with the students. Quinn hadn't gotten a single unexcused tardy since becoming captain, even if that had meant that she had needed to lie a few times.

She couldn't have told the truth this time though. Karofsky was right. That would have led to exactly the sort of meeting that he had described. That meeting could very easily lead to Quinn finding herself, once again, homeless. If there was any possibility of having to relive that particular piece of hell then that meeting had to be avoided at all costs.

Then Quinn realized that that wasn't even the worst possibility.

Her fists clenched, her eyes widened, and her mind was leagues away from any of the Greek philosophers they were supposed to be discussing. Getting kicked out of her home wasn't actually all that likely, Judy wouldn't let Russell do it and she had already demonstrated that she could beat him in court, but that only opened up the door to something worse. Judy wouldn't throw her out but she wouldn't be happy with Quinn's new friendship either. If Quinn couldn't 'control herself' then she could imagine her parents taking steps to make sure that she'd stay away from Rachel.

A school transfer sounded much worse than losing her home again.

McKinley wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it was almost more of a home to Quinn than her house. The Fabray household was Russell's kingdom and it was always going to be Russell's kingdom. Everything Quinn had built had been at school and even if it had been under the watchful eyes of Sue and her father then at least it was still hers. Tearing her away meant that she would have to start over from ground zero.

She wouldn't have glee. She assumed that her father would say that it had clearly shown its negative influences and was, thus, forbidden. She'd have to start over from the bottom of the pyramid on the new cheerleading squad, if she could even still make it on a month into the year. All of her rules, respect, and power that she had spent so long to build and gain would vanish in a flash.

She'd just be normal. Quinn Fabray, just another face in the crowd after so long in the spotlight.

And that wasn't even the worst part of the worst possibility.

The worst part were the people she would miss. Santana might not miss her much but Brittany would and Quinn didn't know what she'd do without the two girls she had known most of her life backing her up. She'd have to find new lieutenants and it wouldn't be the same. The unholy trinity's history kept them bound together more than anything else and there was no one else that Quinn had that sort of relationship with. There was no one Quinn would rather have backing her up than Santana and no one who would follow without question like Brittany.

Rachel herself would be hard to leave, maybe impossible. In three weeks the tiny girl had already woven herself into Quinn's life so securely that the mere idea of leaving her behind hurt. She had always filled a unique role in the blonde's life but it had only been recently that it had changed from a negative one to a positive one. Rachel had changed from a small annoying nuisance, fit only to be crushed by her betters, to the first person who had ever really forgiven Quinn. Rachel was, in fact, the only person who had forgiven Quinn.

No one else had given up as much bad history as Rachel had and no one had done it as quickly and unconditionally as the tiny girl had. That wasn't something Quinn could just let go of. She needed those hugs, those friendly kisses, her smile on those lips. She needed to keep Rachel in her life.

Karofsky would take everything from Quinn in one terrible moment. She'd lose her freedom, her power, her prestige, her friends, Rachel, the Trouble Tones...

Quinn choked so audibly that it drew the attention of several students sitting next to her.

Furious terrified tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about losing Beth. Karofsky would rob her of her daughter if he could. The bastard wouldn't care about the tiny girl not knowing her mother. Russell wouldn't either. Quinn doubted that either of the monsters could even understand how she felt about Beth. She'd rather live homeless on the streets than lose the opportunity to be with her baby.

So, she concluded bitterly, she had been wrong.

Karofsky could actually do quite a bit.

Quinn knew that everything she was imagining was a worst case scenario but luck had never been on her side before. She was already unbelievably lucky that Karofsky was too blind to see the blackmail potential. He was already going to see Russell at church every week. Why wait until Quinn made a move to spill the news? He could have demanded anything, Quinn would have done anything, to make sure that he stayed silent.

He was never going to end up in that meeting, not by any action of Quinn's.

That did not, however, mean that he was going to get away scott-free with his insubordination. If he was too stupid to figure out how to use his new weapon then Quinn was going to beat him into submission before he learned. She spent the rest of the class period, which would have been passed reviewing material Quinn had already read, plotting her revenge.

Most of it was, in reality, just idle fantasy. Quinn knew there was no way to get Karofsky publicly humiliated on the football field, especially with the new somewhat competent coach, or kicked from his own home but there were still a few things within her power. Slushies had always been Karofsky's preferred form of bullying, next to straight up hitting people, and Quinn enjoyed irony as much as the next person.

She could use the Cheerios' hit list.

Quinn hadn't invented the slushie facial but she had certainly popularized it. She had realized how simple, cheap, and excusable the action was and so, when someone had needed punishment, she had sent a Cheerio after them with a slushy. It had set a trend. She was certain that there was a janitor out there somewhere who resented her for the hours and hours of extra effort spent cleaning ice out of the hallways.

No one had taken to the new fad like Sue had though. The coach had started issuing a list every Monday to her cheerleaders announcing which people she needed slushied by which Cheerio. That list had proven stronger than friendship, clubs, a few cases of 'true love,' and even a restraining order. The people that Sue wanted slushied got slushied. Period.

Quinn, as captain, had the power to add names to that list.

It would be simple, perfect really. Quinn would add Karofsky to the list and once you were on there, barring miraculous intervention, you stayed on for at least a month. Nobody would question it, doing so would be the same as questioning Sue, and Karofsky would never know who had put him there. All Quinn had to do was decide who would administer the slushies.

Quinn herself wouldn't do it. Actually slushying someone was, more or less,below her now. It was dirty work and she didn't like doing it so, unless Sue had assigned her the task, she sent someone else. She might have sent Rachel, an ex-low class student slushying Karofsky would have been satisfying, but she didn't want to place the smaller girl in danger. She didn't want to test how far Karofsky's patience stretched.

The bell rang with Quinn still thinking. The point was that it had to be embarrassing, humiliating. The slushying enough was an excellent start but choosing the right delivery girl could add a little extra sting. The blonde began making her way towards the locker room. That was where Sylvester posted the list each week since it was 'for Cheerios' eyes only.' All the cheerleaders had to meet up at the end of each Monday to find out whether or not they had an assignment. Quinn could show up, make her addition, and be on her way to Trouble Tones practice without problems.

Heather, the name came to Quinn's mind so clearly that she couldn't believe it hadn't been her first choice. Who better than the younger sister of Karofsky's best friend and frequent partner in crime? No one. It would be embarrassing for Karofsky and, if he hurt the girl, Azimio would kill him.

"No!" A loud voice from the locker room kept Quinn from getting too self-congratulatory. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening!" The blonde girl's Karofsky worries dropped to a lower level of importance as she recognized the voice as Rachel's. Rachel was in a locker room full of Cheerios who still didn't like her all that much and she was most definitely in distress. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Quinn bolted the last few steps to the room.

"What's going on?" Quinn demanded as she rounded the division and entered in the locker room itself. Contrary to expectations there weren't all that many cheerleaders inside; just Adler, who was recognizable instantly from her short stature and her shock of red hair, Rachel, and three others. Adler had the list in hand, Quinn supposed that Sue had added that responsibility to 'laundry duty,' and Rachel was staring at her with horror etched across her face.

"R can't believe that she's going to have to slushy someone." Teresa explained, quailing slightly beneath Quinn's glare. It seemed like three weeks had been enough to teach the redhead exactly where she fell on the social ladder. Quinn approached the girl, positioning herself where she'd be able to see both Teresa and Rachel.

"I, I, I thought that the list was just a myth," the brunette stuttered her way into her own explanation, a degree of relief working its way into her voice as she recognized Quinn's presence. "I thought it was just something to make us behave, to keep us scared. Please, Quinn, tell me this is some kind of joke." Rachel's hopeful plea hurt. It hurt because, this time, Quinn couldn't do what her best friend wanted.

Rachel was in a unique position, having started her school career off on the bottom of the social ladder. Most girls were either on the Cheerios or off of them from freshman year. The girls who were on the squad got used to the list pretty quickly since they were never going to have to be on it and the girls who weren't on the squad were like Rachel. They couldn't be sure whether or not the list existed even if, like Rachel, they had been on that same list every week for two years. Rachel had only just joined the Cheerios three weeks ago. She wouldn't have known.

That still meant, of course, that Rachel should have found out two Mondays earlier when Sylvester had issued the first list but she hadn't. The tiny brunette had still been under the protection of version one of Sylvester's plan to destroy glee yet again. She hadn't even been told to show up in the locker room on Mondays.

Now, though, things were different. Things were different and it was Quinn's fault. It had been Quinn who talked Sue into changing course. 'If she's going to be a Cheerio then she's going to have to start acting like one,' Sylvester had said. Quinn had hoped that that would just apply to more vigorous practices for a while but it seemed like the coach didn't want to waste any time.

"Quinn?" Rachel questioned nervously.

"Give me the list, T," Quinn reached out to receive the clipboard. She only spared a moment to verify that she herself hadn't been assigned anyone before searching out Rachel's name.

"Quinn?" The faint notes of relief that had found their way into Rachel's voice started to fade.

"Wait," Quinn said, confused, as she realized exactly who her best friend had been instructed to slushy. "Why on earth is Sam on here?" She pulled out a pen, adding Karofsky's name to one of the empty space alongside 'Azimio, Heather.'

"Oh my God, it is real." Rachel moaned, slumping slightly. "I can't, I can't..." the diva kept repeating that as Teresa spoke over her.

"Probably because he joined the New Directions."

Even Rachel, on the verge of a meltdown, dropped out of importance for a moment.

"Excuse me," the blonde interrupted, voice quivering with barely contained frustration, "he what?"

"He joined glee, Quinn!" Rachel cried, more angry than sad, and the blonde girl almost broke.

There was one part of her that just wanted to scream.

"I ran into him heading to the choir room when I was coming here!"

Apart from publicly coming out as gay joining the New Directions was the worst thing Sam could have possibly done. The Trouble Tones wouldn't have been so bad since Quinn was fairly sure that they would soon be the 'popular' glee club but the New Directions... The New Directions were the sub-basement of popularity. Quinn needed someone she could use, not another drag on her already strained capabilities.

Quinn was definitely going to have to talk with him.

"Is there something wrong with that, Quinn?" The other part of the blonde girl was breaking because Rachel was in pain. It was emotional pain but the diva had already suffered more than enough of that on the Cheerios' account. The tiny girl was panicking and it tore at Quinn's heart. "Is joining a club so bad that we have to punish the people who do it? Is there something wrong with being in the New Directions? I saw Finn and Sunshine on the list too! I can't slushy someone for joining glee! I can't, I can't!"

"You won't have to," Quinn responded instinctively. She couldn't help it, not when Rachel's eyes were welling up with tears, not when her voice sounded like that. She sounded nearly as bad as she had when Jesse had betrayed her, when she had discovered Finn's infidelity. Quinn had to help. If Rachel was too close to her fellow glee clubbers to slushy them then she could receive a different assignment The blonde thrust the clipboard back to Teresa. "Reassignments, T." She started moving towards Rachel, intent on doing something to comfort her, when Adler responded.

"The names on the list don't change." Quinn rounded on the girl. She wasn't about to be challenged by the lowest ranking Cheerio on the squad, especially when she was defending Rachel. "Miss Sylvester made that clear. Once a Cheerio or a victim is on the list they don't come off."

"That's why I said reassignments, T," Quinn snapped. "I'm a captain, I can move things around if I want to." Rachel wouldn't have to slushy anyone from glee. Quinn would ease the assignment as much as she possibly could. Teresa was right. Quinn couldn't take her friend off the list but she could help out. "If you're so intent on making sure everyone gets their slushy then you can...

"And why did you put Dave on here?" It took Quinn a moment to understand what Adler had asked. That was partly because the idea of the girl interrupting her should have been unthinkable and partly because nobody, not even Rachel with her penchant for using first names, called Karofsky Dave.

"That's none of your business, T. I didn't ask for your opinion. Karofsky, not Dave," Quinn hissed the nickname and Teresa blushed, "needs a slushy and you're lucky that I'm not making you do that one too. You will be taking Rachel's place, though. I expect you to have slushied Sam by the end of the week. Understood?"

"Quinn," Rachel's voice was still weak but it cut in on the blonde girl's anger without difficulty, "angel," Quinn ignored the looks of shock that appeared on the faces of the other Cheerios, more had walked in to figure out their assignments. They wouldn't understand even if Quinn took the time to explain the pet name and Rachel was more important. Quinn had to help her get past this step, the first real instance of Cheerio culture shock for the smaller girl. "Isn't there something we can do? We're the captains. None of those people have to be slushied. Do they?"

"No," Quinn had to admit, "they don't but you have to remember, R," it cost Quinn more than she liked to use the initial. In theory they should have been calling each other R and Q whenever they were in a Cheerios setting but Rachel had never been good at doing it and she had worn away at Quinn until the habit had simply died. "There's nothing we can do. We're dealing with Sue Sylvester. We can discourage the students from slushying people on their own but we can't do anything about Sue."

"Give R ben Israel as a target," Quinn instructed. She had never gotten around to properly punishing the boy for his rumour mongering and, of all people, he should have been the easiest for Rachel to slushy. He had been stalking her forever. So long as he didn't get some sort of sick thrill out of the ordeal she'd be the most humiliating person to be slushied by as well.

"No," Rachel shook her head and Quinn couldn't help releasing a small sound of distress.

"Rachel," the blonde said, the weight of an entire day's frustration pressing its way in to her voice, "Jacob doesn't have anything to do with glee." She didn't really think that would help anything but she was hoping. An easy solution to the problem was all Quinn wanted.

"No, Quinn," the notes of distress that Quinn wanted so badly to soothe were still there but Rachel was starting to sound troublingly like she had made a decision. "You don't understand. I can't slushy anyone."

Quinn did understand though. Rachel was one of the two most slushied students in school. Quinn had developed a distaste for both slushying and being slushied in the last year alone. Once you knew how it felt it was much harder to do it to someone else. Only Kurt knew how it felt better than Rachel.

"R, Rachel, Rae," Quinn let the nickname slip through her lips in the hopes that it would get through to the smaller girl, "this is part of being a Cheerio. You have to do it." She didn't say it with anger. She tried to break the news to her friend as gently as she could. One way or another, though, Rachel was going to have to slushy someone or the precarious balance Quinn had constructed would come tumbling down.

Rachel's state of open rebellion would have one of two consequences, neither of which was acceptable. The first was that Sue would return to version one of her plan, Rachel would live an idyllic version of Cheerio life for a month or two more, and Quinn would end up having to crush her best friend when time was up. Sue wouldn't care. She had only shifted tactics because Quinn had convinced her that keeping Rachel around was better.

The other outcome Quinn could see was Sue giving up the entire scheme as a complete wash. She'd cut Rachel, she'd probably cut Quinn for failing, and she'd continue on as though nothing were wrong.

On the one hand Quinn would end up losing her truest friend.

On the other she'd end up losing her position and power.

It all depended on Rachel.

"Then maybe it's better not to be a Cheerio."


	29. Chapter 16: Part 2: Rebellion Part 2

A/N!: I have good news and bad news, Faberrians.

The good news is that I know when I will have more time avaliable to dedicate to this story.

The bad news is that it's July of next year and that there's a good chance that I'll be limited in my updating capacities until then.

Thank you for your understanding.

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee is still the property of Ryan Murphy and/or Fox

A/N 2: To anyone who wants to talk about the story, character motivations, plans for the future, whatever: my inbox is open. I'll reply to you eventually if you drop me a line. You're also welcome to just say hi. I try to be a polite human being and I'm happy to get to know any fans/passersby/ or haters who want to know me. Thanks!

A/N 3: Hi, I sort of lied. I said there was only going to be one more part to this chapter. There will be one more after this one. I just felt like the response to some of the reviews I received on the last update was important enough to occasion another split. Thank you for your understanding.

A/N 4: Thanks to IHEARTQ and TheProduca for favoriting the story. I'm assuming you're a Quinn Fabray fan. I am too! Thank you for joining me!

Thanks to glitterandspots, Paige P3, kaipulani, BrokenHeartsWhispered, and tbaby20 for following the story. You're in for a long ride. Let's hope I can keep it compelling for you guys. Thank you all!

Thanks to MySun4ever and AlePampers for both following and favoriting the story. I'm glad that you seem to enjoy my branch off the Glee path. Thank you!

Special thanks to Embrace Thyself for favoriting and following both me and the story. I appreciate the company on my long winding look through Quinn's head. Thank you very much for your time and support!

Thanks to three guests for reviewing! Guest 1, I'm glad you feel like I do a good job of getting inside Quinn's head since, really, that's the point. This story is more about Quinn than Faberry for me, even though Faberry is still a huge part of everything. This is her journey the way it could, not should, have been. Thank you for your praise!

Guest 2, you might be surprised to hear that I actually agree with you. Quinn, at this point in time, is not a good person. She's got a pretty checkered past and I'd say that the pattern's more black than white. Don't get me wrong, I love the girl with all my heart and soul, but she's got some serious flaws. Most protagonists do. It's part of storytelling. Hero overcomes weaknesses to win conflict is nearly the oldest pattern around. It's just going to take Quinn more than the three weeks she's had to do that. I think I mentioned a few times that I'm the wordiest bastard in the Faberry fandom. I meant it. This story is going to be LONG and that's because Quinn needs time to change. Thank you for your input!

Guest 3: Thank you for your opinion. I do agree that Rachel is in a much healthier place than Quinn. (Though SPOILER ALERT: you'll probably be seeing some of Rachel's own ugly side in a few chapters: SPOILER ALERT) I don't think that everything Quinn has done is selfish though. If you were to say most then I'd agree but saying everything is a hyperbolic exaggeration. In any case I think you might find my response to Shadowcub useful. Thank you for your time!

Thanks to Shadowcub for reviewing. I'm glad you're still around. I really am. Your commitment to saying what you think, even when it's negative, has caused me to do some deep thinking about Quinn on several occasions. Please allow me to share with you. (Warning: semi-spoiler alert. I won't be revealing specifics about the story but I will be talking about character motivations, challenges, and goals)

To start off, Shadowcub, you're absolutely right. Quinn does need to get out from under her father's thumb. She does need to realize that none of these idiot high-school games matter and start making plans for her future. She needs to shape up her act, be a better human being, and start building other people up instead of tearing them down.

That took her three years to do on the show. Quinn didn't figure things out until, fittingly enough, Rachel saved her from ruining Beth's, Shelby's, and her own lives. (I'm also convinced, head-canon-wise, that that was the moment when show!Quinn realized she was in love with Rachel Berry but that's a different rant entirely.) She had to almost hit rock bottom before she came to her senses. It was only then that she reached out and brought back the Trouble Tones, that she started wanting things like Yale for herself. People don't change so dramatically without a pretty strong shock, several in Quinn's case.

My Quinn has had three weeks, a year and three weeks if you count the fact that this fic is set after S1, to start doing all that.

She's been making progress on two fronts, basically. There's Beth/The Trouble Tones, which is the closest thing to something selfless Quinn is doing at the moment, and there's Rachel. These two things, plus a few others to a lesser extent, are going to be what help Quinn raise herself up out of the mess she's dug herself into but there's a problem with one of them right now. Quinn and Rachel have very different visions of what they're building together.

To put it one way: Quinn and Rachel are working together and they have all the materials they need to build a home. They need that home before Quinn can start fixing up everything else. Rachel is dead set on building a home. Quinn, however, is trying to build a boat and every piece she puts together only fits haphazardly. Eventually this boat is going to fall apart and she's going to have to realize that she has to build a home but that might take a while.

Rachel is helping Quinn to get better but it's not as much as it could be since Quinn is willfully non-self-aware. Similarly: Quinn could help Rachel with a few things but until she gets everything clear she's really just going to be dragging Rae down. I am going to get to the point where they both help each other be the best they can be but that takes time, tears, and patience.

For now I'm content that each one makes the other WANT to be better.

As an extra note I want to mention that yes I do know that I present just about everything Quinn does as justified in one way or another. We're following this story, for the most part, from inside her head. Of course she justifies the things she does to herself. If she couldn't then she probably wouldn't do things like that.

Stick with me. I don't claim to be the best author but I am aware of Quinn's flaws and I do have plans in place to overcome them. I don't promise that she will always do the right thing and take steps in the right direction, there wouldn't be much point to having flaws if the flaws didn't win every now and then, but by the time Nationals rolls around the picture should be dramatically different. Thank you so much for your feedback, support, and time.

Enjoy!

~Quinchberry

Chapter 16: Part 2: Rebellion Part 2

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Rachel stomped out of the locker room, leaving Quinn and the other cheerleaders in stunned silence. Quinn couldn't do anything more than stand there, blinking slowly, for the space of several seconds. Rachel had just used one of her practically patented diva tantrums to walk out on the Cheerios.

That hadn't been a possibility the blonde was prepared for.

Quinn had been right though. Rachel's ties to the Cheerios were clearly far weaker than they needed to be. That truth wouldn't save Quinn from Sue's wrath but it felt nice to know. If she was going to go spiralling down then at least she'd have something to throw back at the coach in spite. It also meant that Quinn, to some extent, was starting to understand Rachel.

That had always been a challenge for Quinn. She didn't know how Rachel had survived her daily tortures, how she kept her head held high through everything, why she was always willing to forgive. Those were alien concepts to the blonde girl. Quinn had hardly born her trials with grace, she had tumbled from the top in a mess, she was both vindictive and vengeful. If Karofsky were to come and beg forgiveness Quinn doubted she would have given it to him. Rachel had forgiven her worst enemy and more.

Rachel had worried about the girl who hated her so much. When she had told Finn the truth about Beth's father and both Finn and Quinn were hurting Rachel had gone to Quinn first. She had had to ask her own forgiveness and make sure that Quinn was ok. It had been Rachel who brought Quinn back to glee, Rachel who had come looking for Quinn every single time the blonde tried to leave.

That thought was what propelled Quinn out into the hallways in pursuit of her friend. If Rachel could set aside the 'love of her life' to go and reach out to her worst enemy then Quinn could endure a few more whispers from the other Cheerios for her best friend. They didn't matter; so long as things worked out with Rachel Quinn would be able to keep them on top. The list didn't matter; Quinn wasn't on it and all she needed to do was get Rachel to see that it was protecting her. Quinn could bring Rachel back. She could keep both of them safe.

The blonde knew she could. She had lost track of the number of times that Rachel had stormed out of glee the exact same way only to come back a few days later. A diva tantrum was not the end of everything for Rachel Berry. Quinn could find her, she had to be on her way to glee, and calm her and bring her back.

The finding part, at least, didn't take long at all. Subtlety was not Rachel's strong point and, since the tiny girl wasn't actually trying to avoid Quinn, her route to the choir room was obvious. Quinn was faster than her best friend as well and, in the mostly empty post-regular school day hallways, she wasn't ashamed to run. She caught up to Rachel four doors before the choir room, where she could already hear the rest of the New Directions warming up.

"Rachel, Rachel wait!" Quinn called out, breathing heavily. Thankfully enough the girl did stop when she heard her friends voice, turning slowly to face the taller girl. The expression the brunette wore was determined, almost grim, but she stopped and that was enough for Quinn. The blonde ground to a halt a step and a half away from her friend, only to find that Rachel was already cutting her off.

"Quinn, I have a class to get to," Rachel didn't say it with the humiliating malice Quinn had used to throw the same words at Karofsky earlier. She just sounded polite, cold but still cordial. "I understand that to some people show choir is nothing but an embarrassment and a nuisance but to me it is an important part of my routine. Thank you."

"Rachel," Quinn said, taking that first half step closer before her friend could escape, "you know it's not like that."

"Do I, Quinn?" Rachel folded her arms tightly across her chest. The message was clear. This wasn't going to just blow over with a hug, not until they had had a serious discussion. "You made it pretty obvious to me that you only joined the Trouble Tones for Beth. That is, I admit, a perfectly legitimate motivation but I was under the impression that if you had had any real interest in glee then you would have come back to the New Directions. You didn't care until your baby came back."

"That was because of my father, Rae," Quinn explained. The smaller girl had to understand. Rachel knew about Quinn's father. "He didn't let me come back until Beth showed up."

"I love glee." Quinn said frankly. It was true. She wasn't the best there, it was the one place in school she willingly went where she wasn't the top of the food chain, but she enjoyed it. The kids in glee let you be yourself. There was no need for the games that kept the rest of the school on tenterhooks at all times. It was one of the few places where Quinn could, in a way, rest.

"Then why are you doing this, Quinn?" The confusion that filled Rachel's voice was more frustrated than it had been in the locker room. "Why are you choosing Sue and your father over something you love? Are you going to let them run your whole life?"

"No," Quinn denied. She didn't know if it was true though. She had always been resigned to Russell guiding her as he pleased. There had been a moment of hope when Judy had kicked him from the house but he was back and intent on staying. There wasn't anything Quinn could do.

"Then why are you letting them make you unhappy?" Things were not going as Quinn had planned them. She had wanted to get Rachel to see sense, to understand why Quinn did what she did, but it seemed more like everything Rachel was saying was reasonable. "We're almost eighteen, Quinn. That's legal adulthood. You're going to have to start making your own decisions. You don't have to avoid glee just to keep your dad happy. You don't have to slushy Sam just because Sue said so."

"It's not just because Sue said so." Quinn wished that she could explain her justifications as easily as she could form them in her mind. Rachel was running circles around her.

"Why is it then, Quinn?" Rachel reached the point of full-fledged exasperation. "Why is it that every time we're in front of the Cheerios my Quinn, my angel, disappears and the Quinn who quite honestly terrifies me comes back? I don't want you to be the Quinn who intimidates Santana into pretending to be my friend or the Quinn who obediently carries out Sue's orders or the Quinn who orders people slushied just because they made you angry. I want you to be the Quinn who lo..."

"It's so I can protect us, Rae!" Quinn interrupted. It wasn't the prettiest presentation of her point but she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance to build to something more than just blurting it out.

It did trip Rachel up though. Color flushed the diva's cheeks as she started speaking again. "No, Quinn," her voice softened considerably even as she denied what her friend was saying. She wished she could believe it. "It's so you can protect yourself."

"No," Quinn whispered. Why was it that Rachel couldn't understand? Quinn would have done anything, had even risked her own standing with Sue, to bring the other girl up to stand alongside her. She wanted Rachel to be happy. She wanted Rachel to have all the popularity and friends that she had ever dreamed of having.

"I was fine before I joined the Cheerios," Rachel continued, "I'd be fine again without them, especially if... if you'd..." The smaller girl choked up, arms still tightly wrapped around herself. "I'd be fine if my best friend would come with me."

Something clicked for Quinn.

"Quinn."

Rachel wasn't after popularity, at least not in school. She wanted success, yes, but that was more part of her Broadway dream than an immediate necessity.

"Angel."

All she wanted was for someone to really care about her.

"Come with me."

For Rachel it had always been about Finn, not the quarterback or the football team. It had been about Shelby, not the Trouble Tones or Vocal Adrenaline. It had been about Quinn, not the Cheerios.

All Rachel needed was her friends. That was what would make her happy more than any amount of high-school popularity in the world. Sue had judged the girl wrong; everyone had, really. She was enjoying being a Cheerio or at least, until recently, she had been enjoying it but the popularity was a side benefit and not the main attraction. It was entirely possible that Rachel was only in the Cheerios because of Quinn, not just because Quinn had invited her but because Quinn had made herself the smaller girl's friend.

All Rachel needed to be happy was Quinn.

But that wasn't what she needed to be safe.

"Rachel, we can't go." Quinn insisted. She did it caringly, gently, and she hope she understood right that Rachel was talking about leaving the Cheerios. Barring an impressive change of heart she couldn't have been talking about the Trouble Tones, she had actually expressly forbidden Quinn from leaving Beth. Quinn had to admit, though, that the day had been frustrating enough to keep her from thinking clearly. Rachel could have been speaking about a number of things that simply didn't occur to the blonde girl.

"Yes you can, angel," Rachel's use of the singular showed that she still didn't understand but Quinn let her speak. If she was patient then she'd have a chance to make things clear and she really didn't want to run the risk of upsetting Rachel any further. Quinn knew she was selfish, that it was easy to believe that she wasn't worried about anyone but herself, but that wasn't the case this time around.

"I know that it'll be hard and that Sue and your parents will be angry but you don't have to be afraid of them, Quinn." Rachel's eyes were wide, pleading again, "You don't have to be their Quinn. If worst comes to worst and your parents prove once and for all how unfit they are as guardians then I can offer you a place to stay. Shelby's found her own apartment now. You can come with me in every sense of the phrase. I can give you a home where you'll be loved. You can be my Quinn, my angel."

Rachel reached out a hand, searching for Quinn's

"Come with me," she repeated

Quinn couldn't believe it. Her brain processed the words she was hearing but she wasn't capable of believing them. Rachel had just offered her a place to stay, more than that, a home.

"Your parents would let you do that?" The blonde asked in disbelief. She couldn't even imagine Hiram and Leroy letting her live under their roof after everything she had done.

"If they don't then I'll go on hunger strike, works every time." Rachel said, brandishing her hand again so desperately that Quinn thought the arm might fall off. Rachel really was dedicated to maintaining the friendship at any cost.

That meant that Quinn had to be even more dedicated to her side of the promise.

She needed Rachel both happy and safe.

She needed to be Rachel's friend and she needed both of them within the protective bubble that the Cheerios offered.

"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn said softly, taking the offered hand. Rachel's eyes lit up, Quinn's smile touched her lips, and she willingly let Quinn pull them closer together. Quinn exhaled deeply, aware that her friend probably wouldn't enjoy the next word straight away, "but," Rachel, as expected, stiffened immediately, "it's not about me. It's not even about them."

"It's about you."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, maintaining her calm with evident difficulty. She didn't move though. She allowed Quinn to stay close. "I-I-It's an open offer. You can accept whenever you need or want to. I need that to be clear but what are you trying to tell me?"

"Rachel," Quinn spoke slowly, thinking about each word. She hoped the smaller girl would let her finish her complete thought, "I promised your fathers and I promised you that I'd keep you safe." She exhaled out another long sigh. "I don't think I know how to do that without the Cheerios." It was strange how hard it was to vocalize those words, to actually give life to that expression of insufficiency.

Quinn really didn't know how she could protect her friend on her own. She wasn't enough. She could try to keep her promise, try and take every slushy aimed at Rachel in addition to the ones that would surely come for her, but it wouldn't work. Quinn couldn't keep an eye on her friend throughout the entire school day. They didn't even share more than three classes a day. Rachel would be facing a far more hostile school, the 'fallen' were in a much worse position than those who had never managed to climb at all, mostly on her own.

Quinn needed the Cheerios. Even if they did gossip worse than an old folk's home then at least they respected Rachel's new position out in the open. The brunette hadn't been slushied once since joining the squad.

Quinn simply couldn't provide that level of protection on her own, especially if she came tumbling down alongside Rachel.

"I know you were fine before, Rae," Quinn kept going steadily and Rachel finally seemed willing to let her continue, "but I don't want you to be fine. I want you to be happy and I want you to be safe. I want you to be able to walk through the halls without jumping every time someone with a slushy passes by. I don't want you to have to use the clean up kit in your locker every day for the rest of high school. I don't want you to have to have a clean up kit here at school. I don't want your fathers to have to watch miserably as you come back a mess each day. If I don't get you to come with me, to come back, all of that will be my fault again."

"I could accept that, Quinn," and the blonde could hear the desire to accept it in her friend's voice, "I really could. I want to but every single time we're with the Cheerios you put the mask back on and I can't feel it anymore. You're not my Quinn then. You're just the 'Head Bitch In Charge.' I'm fairly certain that you weren't merely fortunately passing by when you heard me in distress just now. You were coming to the locker room because you knew about that damn list and, for one reason or another, you're ok with it. You even use it. I don't know what Karofsky did but I'd prefer that even he, as brutish as he is, not be on there. I wish that you hadn't accepted Sam's presence with nothing more than a shrug and an 'oh well.' I wish you hadn't assumed that I'd slushy Jacob just because he irritates me."

"I can understand you wanting to keep yourself, us, safe but I wish you didn't enjoy it as much as you do."

Quinn couldn't respond to that, not directly. She did, shamefully enough, enjoy the things she had to do as queen. It had been a pleasure accomplishing her initial defeat of Karofsky and a satisfaction to place him on the list. Her head hung, weighed down with guilt. Rachel was right; she had gone far beyond doing just what she needed to survive or placate Russell and Sue.

She needed to swing in the other direction. In a normal circumstance the right thing to do would have been exactly what Rachel was doing, renouncing the Cheerios until the standards of behavior were acceptable. Quinn wasn't in a normal circumstance though. She needed to protect Rachel.

That didn't mean that she couldn't do anything. She'd just have to work from the inside. She could start fighting the problem instead of contributing to it.

"Help me," Quinn said, still not quite able to raise her eyes to Rachel's. That was what she needed; them, safe, working together to make things better. The blonde couldn't do it on her own. The justifications and excuses that flowered so abundantly in Rachel's absence would creep back in and nothing would change.

"How?" Rachel, astute as ever, didn't question Quinn's sudden request. She just wanted to know what she needed to do.

"Come with me," Quinn echoed her friend's plea, tugging emphatically at the same hand Rachel had offered her, "don't run away, help me change. We can make things better but only if you stay. Stay with me. Help me change the Cheerios. I can't do it without you."

"I need you."

"Will I have to slushy anyone?" Rachel asked hesitantly. The newborn repentance in Quinn's voice was clearly affecting her. She sounded much less resolute than she had minutes earlier.

"Yes," Quinn admitted. There was no getting around it. If Rachel were to stay safe then she was going to have to get her hands dirty. "You can choose anyone you want. I'll change the list however I need to. Just help me keep you safe. Please, Rae."

"I..." Rachel started, flustered, "I wish it didn't sound so reasonable coming from you. I've never been tempted by an angel before. I just can't do it. I can't!"

"You don't have to right now," Quinn rushed to answer. Rachel had said that it sounded reasonable. That was her opening. Quinn knew it was probably wrong but she really didn't care about the poor sap that her friend was going to slushy. All that mattered, for the moment, was guiding Rachel back to safety. They could worry about more noble plans later. "You have the entire week to make up your mind. Just... Think about it and come with me to practice tomorrow, ok?"

Quinn slowly raised her gaze as Rachel stood in silence. The other girl wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but she hadn't run. She had let Quinn talk to her. That meant a lot.

"If I do do it then you have to be you, all the time." Rachel stated flatly. "No more disappearing. I don't want to have to be scared of you, Quinn. If we're going to be together then I have to be able to trust you."

"Promise." Quinn nodded, "You might have to remind me, I've been the HBIC for a long time, but I promise I'll do my best."

"Then I'll think about it." Rachel said, squeezing gently at Quinn's hand before withdrawing. She smiled as best as Quinn assumed she could, under the circumstances, "Now we have to get to glee. We're both late. I'll text you later, Quinn." Rachel turned and, a few steps later, disappeared into the choir room.


	30. Chapter 16: Part 3: Rebellion Part 3

A/N !: It has come to my attention that, thanks to the extreme length of the chapters, there were some technical difficulties with the two ending parts of chapter 15. Those should now be resolved and the full chapters should now appear. Please let me know if they don't. Thank you!

A/N !2: I just want to remind everyone that I am beta-less. All grammar errors, punctuation errors, typos, bad taste, and all other sorts of problems are the sole responsibility of Quinchberry.

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee and all characters depicted herein belong to Ryan Murphy and Fox.

Reflections belongs to the Disney company. I'd like to dedicate the song to Quinn's ridiculous propensity for appearing nearby mirrors in the show.

A/N 2: Thanks to ThelonelySGT, zanayajames, , and gleecrush for following the story. It's lovely to have so many more companions on the lengthy road towards Pretending's climax! Thanks for signing up. Thank you!

Thanks to Kitsymi for favoriting both me as an author and Pretending as a story. I hope you keep enjoying my writing. Thank you!

Thanks to CaraSkyrim1107 for following and favoriting both me and Pretending as a story. Feel free to PM me your feedback and questions, if you have any. It's great to have you along. Thank you!

Thanks to xxunbrokensupergirlxx for following, favoriting, and reviewing the story. I'm glad I've made you laugh. Let's hope I can do it again in the future. Thank you!

divatox, my dear sweet wonderful divatox. Thank you for reviewing when you did. I was having a bit of a hard time and your two word contribution cheered me right up. I'm always glad when I can make someone happy. Thank you!

Hello!Guest: I loved your review. (Hyuck I love a review that was complimenting me. What a surprise, right?) I'm glad you like the characters the way I'm developing them. I'm glad you're ok with my turtle-covered-in-molasses-on-a-cold-winter-day pace. More than anything, I'm glad you like the story. I'm not sure if I'll be writing out all three years because, as you noted, ohmigod that would be a lot but it's in my current plans. Thank you so much for your caring friendly feedback! Thank you! If you'd ever like to chat in my inbox your anonymity is guaranteed!

Thanks to another dear guest for reviewing. Your opinion, like Shadowcub's is appreciated and actually made me think a lot. I originally had written out a pretty extensive response (yes, even more extensive than the admittedly huge response you're about to read) to your review but I don't feel like the Author's Notes are the right place to carry out a conversation of the length that we're likely to have, considering the evident magnitude in our differences of opinion.

If you would like to talk via inboxes or even email I am more than happy to guarantee your anonymity as well. The only people who would know who you are would be me and you. I would love to discuss the different ways we view the characters since, obviously, we both feel pretty strongly about them. I'm writing a multiple-novel length fanfiction about them and you're vehemently defending what you feel is proper behaviour for both of them. I see both of those things as expressions of love. It's a shame that they're running in opposition to each other right now. I hope you'll drop me a line.

(As with last time, I want to give a semi-spoiler alert. Read on at your own risk. I'll be talking about how I see the characters and stuff.)

In any case, I do want to make it clear that if Rachel forgiving Quinn is not your cup of tea then this is not the story for you. Rachel's key trait for me is forgiveness. On the show she forgives Finn, forgives Puck, forgives Jesse, forgives Shelby, forgives the glee club when they treat her bad, forgives Santana, forgives Brittany, forgives everyone! She forgives everyone who honestly comes asking as many times as they do so. Sometimes they don't even have to ask. More than anyone else, though, she forgives Quinn.

Quinn highlights what I consider to be Rachel's primary positive character trait in a way that nobody else does. Nobody else needs as much forgiveness from Rachel as Quinn. Nobody else has treated Rachel as badly in the past and nobody else fails to grasp the idea of forgiveness the way our Cheerio captain does. Quinn operates in a world where forgiveness is a foreign concept. Her parents don't forgive. Sue doesn't forgive. The other populars don't forgive. Can you blame the girl for growing up a little messed up? The idea doesn't make sense to her.

Glee and, more specifically, Rachel introduced the concept of forgiveness to Quinn's life. Rachel frankly and honestly discarded all their painful past when she went to bring Quinn back in 'Vitamin D.' That wasn't the end of their problems but Rachel never held any of it against the other girl. Look at the amazing crowning example that S2's prom episode gives us. Quinn hits Rachel.

Allow me to repeat that.

Quinn hits Rachel.

Quinn hits Rachel when Rachel has gone to the extreme of following her, rather than her own date or the 'love of her life,' just to try and help her feel better.

Quinn apologizes.

Rachel immediately, without reservation, forgives Quinn and treats the incident as though it were nothing. She even makes a joke about it. She doesn't care that this girl that she's spent so much effort on getting close to, whether in terms of friendship or more than that I'll leave up to you, just physically struck her. Why? Because Quinn apologized, because Quinn, by making a minimal effort, showed the possibility that she could change. It took her time and a lot of it but she got there.

Maybe you're right. An ordinary person might leave Quinn on her own, might run away and never look back, but Rachel Berry is extraordinary. Does that make her prone to getting walked on? Absolutely. Does that make her foolish? Maybe. For me it's the reason that, despite all her flaws (and she does also have serious flaws), I love her.

I'll await your response in my inbox. Anyone else who wants to join in the conversation is also welcome.

Thank you for your opinion and time.

Enjoy!  
>~Quinchberry<p>

Chapter 16: Part 3: Rebellion Part 3

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Quinn's journey to the theater was an anxious one. She was late, Beth was waiting, and the order of things as she knew them was hanging on a thread. Rachel held in her power the ability to condemn them both to unhappy high school careers or to help Quinn start making a difference. She had to choose, for both of them, between joy and misery.

The only problem was that Quinn doubted her friend saw it that way.

Rachel could leave the Cheerios, guard her innocence, and return to the home her New Directions offered her. She would be perfectly within her rights. Quinn wouldn't blame the girl, not even if she ended up broken alongside her. They wouldn't be able to change anything that way though. Sue and her cheerleaders would continue along in their oppressive ways and Quinn had no doubt that Rachel, along with herself, would be one of the biggest targets.

There was hope to change things if Rachel stayed and only if Rachel stayed. Quinn had meant it when she asked her friend to help her change things. The blonde also knew that she couldn't do it on her own. Together there was a chance that, as co-captains, they could start guiding things in the right direction. They could exert a lot of pressure on the other cheerleaders, especially if they could rope Santana and Brittany into the scheme with them, and even Sue would listen if you could present things properly.

It would take time and it would definitely involve being subject to the coach's distasteful whims for a while longer but that was how things worked. If you wanted to grow flowers you had to get down in the dirt. If you wanted to save lives you had to be ready to get a little bloody.

If you wanted to change the Cheerios you were probably going to have to throw a slushie or two.

So, on her way to the theater Quinn was praying, hoping that Rachel would understand and change her mind. It wasn't important whether the change came from something Quinn had said or some outside factor. What was important was that the girl could realize that everything would be for a good cause. They would keep themselves safe, Rachel deserved that safety, and start making things safer for everyone else. They could make Mckinley a better place, start undoing some of the damage Quinn had done.

That wasn't the only motivation, Quinn couldn't deny that her selfish side was hoping every bit as hard that Rachel wouldn't plunge them back into the mire of unpopularity, but it was the one the blonde girl wanted to focus on. Dwelling on the potential downsides, the fall from glory, the loss of her home, the ridiculous impossibility of Rachel's offer, would get her nowhere. If she ignored those self-centered feelings, kept herself focused on helping Rachel and nothing else, then maybe she could stifle them. Maybe.

It all hinged on Rachel.

Quinn tried to stifle the matter entirely as she drew closer to both the theater doors and the notes of intensive practice. Thinking herself in circles wouldn't help either She had made her decision. She was committed to making things better, making herself better, making herself more like the Quinn Rachel wanted her to be. All she could do now was wait for Rachel to make hers. Worrying about it would change exactly nothing. Quinn needed to focus on the Trouble Tones.

She had done some good there or, at least, she hoped that she had. Bringing some Cheerios to the club would give Shelby the chance she needed at Sectionals. No matter what Sue's plans were Quinn doubted that a woman like Shelby Corcoran would let the cheerleading coach steal control away from her. Shelby was stronger than Mister Schuester. At minimum she had a lot more experience. She could handle the addition of a few more cheerleaders, even subversive ones, with ease.

Quinn's hopes didn't deflate too terribly, though, when she saw the same four familiar silhouettes practicing alone on the stage. It had only been a few short days since her interview with Sue. It would have been nice to see a line of Cheerios learning routines in the background but it wasn't reasonable. Sylvester would need time before making a decision. Quinn didn't need to worry too much. The cheerleading coach was dramatic enough that she'd want to make an announcement one way or another once she had made up her mind.

Quinn let go of all her Cheerio related worries as she made her way down the steps. She had done what she could in the moment. She needed to relax.

That was easy to do when she caught sight of the crib by Shelby's piano and the rosy cheeked baby playing inside.

"Quinn, you're late," Shelby said pointedly from her place at the piano. "I need you to start warming up now. We can't waste any time if you want to be ready by Invitationals. They might not kick us out if you botch the solo but you're still going to have to leave an impression."

"Wait, what?" three voices spoke out from the stage in identical confusion though, admittedly, only Sugar actually missed a step. Quinn took the moment to postpone her warmup a little longer. She moved quietly to the side of the crib, leaning over to press a kiss to her daughter's golden hair. Shelby noticed of course but she didn't say anything, not to Quinn anyway. "She's got the solo?"

"Yes, Quinn has the solo for Invitationals. You two," the teacher signalled to Kurt and Mercedes, "are going to be singing a duet, remember? I gave you these assignments on Thursday." Quinn's eyes widened and she straightened up slowly as she too remembered that she had had an assignment. It had been easy to remember, in a vague way, that she was going to sing a solo. She had, after all, talked about it with Rachel just the day before. Remembering that she needed to bring in a few song possibilities on Monday was something that hadn't happened. It had hidden itself away behind all the other preoccupations of Quinn's life.

"We thought that the other number was going to be a group performance," Kurt explained, looking piqued. Sugar's misstep and subsequent stop had thrown off the entire routine. All four of the other students now stood still, looking down at Shelby. Daniel didn't seem to care, Quinn doubted that the freshman had held any illusions about receiving a featured role, but Sugar and the other divas were obviously displeased.

"You thought wrong," Shelby said firmly. "Start from the beginning, One! Two! Three! Four!" she barked without giving them time to respond. Quinn searched her pockets as she moved to where she could focus adequately on the series of runs and exercises Shelby had prescribed as a warmup.

"I need you all to focus," Shelby called out, lecturing all the students there present. "I can't have you losing control when some distraction appears." Quinn's fingers found Evie's iPod and she tugged it loose from the confines of her pocket. She hadn't had time to download more music since the sleepover, she hadn't had time to do anything outside of school since the sleepover, but she hadn't looked through it all either. Subtly, she started scanning the different playlists. Hopefully there she'd find some saving hint.

"What if, I don't know, your ex shows up at Sectionals? Are you just going to stop dancing and stare at them?" Shelby asked, "Are you going to stand there and explain to the judges that you still love them and you were so overwhelmed with emotion that you couldn't go on?"

"No." Shelby answered her own question. Quinn hovered over a playlist labelled 'Disney,' debating whether or not to open it. She wasn't a fanatic like Brittany but she did know the songs. She and Evie had been raised on the cartoon musicals, particularly the princess ones. She'd be able to sing something inside. "You're going to stick to the routine."

"If your costume rips and you're left in your underwear in front of the entire crowd," Shelby paused, intent on making her point to the practicing students, "are you going to run offstage and leave your team hanging? No. You're going to stick to the routine." It was impressive how smoothly she had changed the subject. Rather than let the students bicker about position the teacher was actually teaching something now.

"Kurt," Shelby singled out the waifish boy, "If Mercedes confesses her undying love to you mid-performance what are you going to do?" Quinn entered in to the list of songs her sister had arranged, scanning the titles.

"Stick to the routine," Kurt answered dutifully without breaking stride. Quinn hadn't expected the list to be so extensive. Evangeline had songs from every Disney movie her little sister could remember. Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Aladdin...

"Good. Sugar, if God himself appears on the stage and tries to speak with you what are you going to do?" Quinn scrolled past Tarzan and Hunchback of Notre Dame as Shelby continued her questions.

"Stick to the routine," Sugar answered in turn. Quinn wished that her teacher had directed the question to Mercedes. It would have been interesting to see what a more devout student would have said and the black diva was the only choice while Quinn herself wasn't participating. The blonde girl just busied herself with her music, scrolling with a nostalgic smile past Winnie The Pooh and into Mulan. There was really no rhyme or reason to the way Evie had organized her albums.

"Quinn," Shelby snapped, causing the cheerleader to jump, "put that away and warm up." The girl scrambled to tuck the iPod away again as her teacher stared at her icily. "I already told you that we don't have time to waste. Now, Miss Fabray, if Daniel here kisses you in the final moments of your romantic duet what are you going to do."

"Stick to the routine," Quinn only stopped singing for long enough to answer the question. She didn't want to risk getting another rebuke from the coach. Shelby was stepping things up as competitions loomed nearer and, from what Quinn had heard of Vocal Adrenaline's practices, it would only get worse.

"That's right. You're going to stick to the routine no matter what happens. You aren't going to stop if someone faints, you aren't going to stop if an earthquake hits, and you certainly aren't going to stop for something as tiny as finding out who's singing the solo that you didn't have anyway." Miss Corcoran drove her point home.

"We're only practicing," Sugar said flippantly, "who cares if we mess up a little? That's the point. Practice makes perfect."

"Perfect practice makes perfect," responded Shelby. Quinn considered trying to covertly fish the Ipod out again but decided against it. The warmups weren't long enough for her to give the decision the thought it deserved and Shelby was more than capable of confiscating the device. "If you practice a step wrong a hundred times then you're going to keep doing it wrong. If you can't focus now then how can I trust you to focus at Nationals?"

It was easy to see why Vocal Adrenaline had been so terrifyingly good. Mr. Schuester had had good intentions and even a lot of good ideas but Shelby had experience and control. She had had had the absolute obedient respect of her students at Carmel and she was well on her way to earning it from the Trouble Tones. It was like she had said. She wasn't worried about being fair or even necessarily kind just about making sure that things turned out the best they could.

"We need to practice with the goal in mind, people. If you content yourselves with mistakes and tell yourself that it's 'good enough' or 'only practice' then you're going to stay that way. If you want to waste your lives just being good enough then you can do that, I can't stop you, but in my glee club we aren't going to accept anything less than excellence."

Something Shelby had said struck a chord in Quinn's soul. She could only ever be as good as her goals. If she wasn't trying for the best then how could she ever hope to achieve it? It seemed like a familiar viewpoint and that was because, Quinn realized, it was. Rachel, her best friend, had always had the recently uncovered truth clear. That was why the diva was so set on Broadway. If she let her sights waver then she was never going to make it.

"So I want you to focus," The only question was, then, what did Quinn want? Her goals had always been set for her by other people. Her father guided most of her life. Sue kept her on a leash at school. She still had to decide what she wanted for herself. Shelby continued lecturing the club as Quinn thought.

It was easy to focus on what she didn't want. She had spent so much time paying attention to her father's abhorrent plan, maybe good for Evie but terrifying for Quinn, that it had come to seem inevitable. Quinn simply accepted that things were going to go the way her father had laid them out. Even now that Russell had stated his willingness to give his daughter more freedom she'd never gotten around to really using it. The idea that Mr. Fabray was in absolute control of the destiny of each and every member of his household was like a weed that had been sown early in Quinn's mind, a weed that was trying obstinately to strangle out all other growth.

The only way to fight that weed was with some diligent gardening. Quinn would need to plant her own ideas and goals and keep them safe.

The problem was finding the right seeds to plant.

Quinn had only recently learned that she did want a romance in her life. She had taught herself that, with a little help from Katy Perry, during the sleepover. She didn't have the slightest idea who she wanted to have it with though. Puck was hardly a romantic, Finn was incredibly unlikely after having been lead on for the second time in a row, Karofsky crossed her mind but he was unacceptable and uninterested, and most of the other boys in the school barely dared to look Quinn in the eye. They'd never do.

There was Sam. Quinn had never technically directly wronged him. He seemed gentlemanly and caring beneath the nerdy exterior. As quarterback he could hold himself at Quinn's level, it was the closest she was likely to get to a prince as well, even with the drag of the glee club. He was what Quinn should have wanted.

But it didn't fit. It wasn't right. Quinn didn't feel anything for Sam. He was cute, adorkable was the more fitting word, but that was a far cry from the epic romance Quinn had felt herself longing for. Witty banter and clever references weren't a replacement for the necessity of feeling. They, the friendship and compatibility they represented, were important but they couldn't serve as a replacement for the foundation of emotion.

So Quinn was hopelessly lost there. Finn, Puck, Matt, and Mike all failed to qualify. Sam fell flat though, Quinn supposed, she could give him a little longer to prove himself. The only person of Quinn's age who provoked a real emotional response, was Rachel and Rachel was a girl, disqualified automatically. Even the connection they had shared over the years, for good or for bad, couldn't overcome the fact that Quinn wasn't gay.

However, it might have been nice to be able to have Rachel's certainty about the future. Quinn had never given serious thought to what profession she'd like to work towards. Under Russell's plan she'd end as a housewife, well educated just for the showcased diploma. Could she be happy with that? Could she stay at home and tidy and cook while her husband went off to work each day? Could she left herself be relegated to uselessness for the rest of her life after so long fighting to stay on top?

Considering the idea, Quinn thought she understood why Judy drank so much.

"I want you to show up to class on time." Shelby's pointed comment pulled Quinn's gaze, though the blonde girl still didn't stop singing. The teacher didn't waste more time than necessary with her reprimand however and Quinn's eyes idly found their way to Beth.

That was normal, natural, instinctive. Beth was the reason Quinn was in the Trouble Tones after all. She was the one thing that Quinn could concretely say that she wanted in the moment. No matter who she ended up with or what she ended up doing she wanted Beth to be present in her life. She didn't want the blonde baby to have to go through the same pain that had scarred even the persistently forgiving Rachel Berry. Whether Quinn went to Los Angeles or New York or even if she failed to escape and had to stay in Lima she'd find some way to watch over her baby.

"And I want you all to practice until you're perfect. Understood?" Shelby waited for an answer from her club.

"Yes, Miss Corcoran!"

Quinn soon finished her vocal exercises and joined the other students on stage. The steps were familiar, it was the same routine that they had been practicing during their Thursday practice, and it was easy to jump into the rhythm and let go. Quinn's eyes found their customary place, watching Beth from the stage, and the thirty or so minutes of time left for the class simply slipped away.

"Alright, Trouble Tones," Shelby announced once her students had successfully completed the routine for the third time in a row, "well done. We'll get the announcements out of the way and you'll be free to go." Quinn hadn't felt like any time had passed at all but she gathered obediently with the rest of the students around her teacher's piano. Beth whimpered once insistently from the crib at Quinn's side and then squealed happily as her mother lowered a hand for her to grasp.

"We've got two weeks and five days left to pull together our Invitationals performance," the teacher continued once the normal shifting sounds of movement had stilled. "That's only eight more practices, seven if we don't include today. I expect you all to be working hard at home, of course, but these are going to be the times we have to coordinate together. That means that next practice, on Wednesday, we're going to start practicing actual routines."

"I'm going to need to talk briefly with the three of you who have key roles at Invitationals," Shelby identified Kurt, Quinn, and Mercedes with her eyes. "Sugar, Daniel, you're free to go. Just remember to do your exercises." A quiet clicking drew Quinn's attention to the top of the theater stairway. One of the double doors swung open and someone stepped inside. The contrast between the relative darkness inside the theater and the light from the hallway kept Quinn from making out details from so far away but she turned back to Shelby when the figure started descending the stairs. She figured that she'd know who the visitor was soon enough.

Sugar and Daniel had started getting ready to leave the moment they had received permission but Shelby had simply turned to face her three other students. "Accompany me backstage, please. I'd like to speak to all three of you at the same time. We've got to make a setlist that flows well in every way possible and..."

"Sam!" Kurt squeaked, earning himself a very special glare from Shelby.

"Focus, Mr. Hummell," Shelby ordered, clearly frustrated. Quinn imagined that her glee coach was used to a much higher level of discipline from her students. Dropping from the near-mechanical perfection of Vocal Adrenaline to the rudimentary mess that McKinley high offered must have been aggravating.

The teacher turned to confront the new visitor and Quinn saw what Kurt had noticed. Sam Evans was making his way down the staircase, backpack slung casually over one arm and guitar held under the other. He smiled at Quinn briefly before Shelby claimed his attention.

"Excuse me," the older woman said firmly but still politely, "if you're here to join then I'm afraid you're going to have to wait a few minutes. We just finished normal practice and we're in the middle of something important."

"Sorry, no." Sam replied, "I actually just came from the other club." Shelby deflated slightly, Kurt released an irritated noise of distress, Quinn didn't let herself react to the confirmation. She fought against the negative feelings and frustrated thoughts that surged. She tried to smother the HBIC that just wanted to berate and reprimand Sam until he saw sense. Rachel was correct. Joining glee didn't have to be anything bad. Quinn wanted to get better.

Besides, if Quinn really was going to try and look for her happy ending then she needed to give everyone their fair chance, including Sam. She had messed up with Finn, messed up with Puck, but she had only known Sam for a few weeks. Surely she couldn't have ruined things already.

"I was hoping to see Quinn. Sorry for interrupting," Kurt let out another little noise of disapproval and Quinn rolled her eyes. It was true that she didn't feel the same way as Kurt clearly did about Sam but, really, she had never felt that way about any boy. Maybe if she gave things time, did her best to play her part, those feelings would develop over time. It wasn't love at first sight but that wasn't the only way to do things. It couldn't be.

"Then you're still going to have to wait." Shelby informed the blonde boy. "Like I said, we were about to start an important meeting and I need Miss Fabray's help."

"That's totally cool." Sam replied, "I understand. I can wait. I don't have to get to work for a few more hours." He settled down into one of the nearest chairs and started going through his backpack. Shelby stared, consternated, for a few seconds but eventually turned back to her students.

"Miss Corcoran," Kurt interrupted again just as the woman was opening her mouth, "allow me to keep him company while we wait. It would be a shame to leave him all alone and Mercedes is more than capable of presenting our plans on her own." Quinn knew that those weren't Kurt's real motivations. She knew that Shelby had to know it too. The teacher had been coaching glee and drama since Quinn was a little girl and, frankly, there were a lot of gay students who were drawn to those activities. Shelby had to be clued in enough to recognize what Kurt really wanted.

"Fine," Shelby gave her permission anyway. Quinn could only speculate that it was to keep Sam from doing any spying. She knew that, had the choice been up to her, Kurt would have been marching backstage with the rest of them. Instead the waif hurried to claim the seat next to Sam. He made an attempt to look interested in the gameboy Sam had pulled from his backpack before Shelby spoke again.

"Quinn, Mercedes, let's get backstage before someone else decides to interrupt." The teacher turned without another word, collecting Beth from her crib and making her way across the stage to step behind the curtain.

"Congratulations on your solo, Quinn," Mercedes whispered as the girls started moving. The blonde could only blink in surprise. She hadn't been expecting Mercedes to take that news well when Shelby had assigned the solo in the first place. Things should only have been worse after their quarrel at the sleepover.

"You aren't mad?" the Cheerio asked.

"Nah," Mercedes shook her head, "Kurt's annoyed but he'll get over it. We all know that Miss Corcoran knows what she's doing and you actually made a pretty good show for yourself last night. I ain't gonna cause problems where I don't need to."

Quinn's conscience panged and she stopped just outside the curtain. She had been causing problems where she hadn't needed to. "Look, Mercedes," she wasn't sorry for defending Rachel but she hadn't had to be so overzealous about it either, "about last night, I..."

"Forget it, Quinn," Mercedes wouldn't let her explain. "Neither of us came out of that one smelling like roses. I talked with my parents and, just like always, they helped me out a lot." Paul and Lorraine almost always had some good advice for their children, no matter the problem. "I'm willing to put it behind me for the good of the team. It's like coach says; we gotta have unity if we want to beat the New Direction, especially with that new Sunshine girl. We have a deal?"

Quinn nodded and they were through the curtain in an instant. There was no time for more discussion, not with an already frustrated Shelby Corcoran waiting for them inside.

"Alright, Mercedes, you're up," the teacher didn't waste any time. The atmosphere was distinctly different from the meeting Quinn had had in the same space on Thursday. Then Shelby had been encouraging, offering a chance to shine to a girl who doubted she deserved it, now the teacher needed results.

"What have you got?"

Quinn didn't have anything.

"Kurt and I," Mercedes took a step forward as she made her presentation, "were thinking about Taylor Swift's 'I Knew You Were Trouble.' It isn't a normal duet but it's clever, since we're the Trouble Tones and all, and we can just split up the verses."

"Good, you're right. That is clever. What else do you have?" Beth was playing happily on a mat in the corner and that left Shelby her full attention for the girls in front of her. Quinn wished she could shrink away, vanish. She had never failed to complete an assignment before, not one she could remember. She was a 4.0 student.

"A-ha's 'Take On Me' is pretty romantic and it would let us show off our range a bit, especially Kurt. I know that the New Directions don't have any boys that can sing as high as him. Again, it's not a normal duet but I don't think that should be a problem." Mercedes and Kurt had clearly prepared. They deserved their spots on the setlist. Quinn didn't even have one song planned out. It was something else to heap onto the rapidly growing mountain of things to improve.

"Did you think about any real duets?"

"Not so much," Mercedes admitted. At least they weren't perfect either. It didn't excuse Quinn's deficiency but it did make her feel better. "We found a two-person version of 'Falling Slowly' that we thought we could do. That's the closest thing we've got."

"Good enough," Shelby acknowledged, relaxing a little. "You've got a nice variety of ideas prepared. Each of those songs has a pretty different message." She paused, thinking, as Mercedes waited and Quinn shuffled uncomfortably. "If I'm not mistaken, I'm not going to pretend that I'm familiar with all the music that's popular nowadays, the songs you listed are a bit more active, more intense. We'd want to lead in or out with something a little calmer."

"Quinn," the coach turned to the blonde girl, "have anything that works for that?"

"No," Quinn didn't bother lying. It wouldn't help. She hadn't had enough time to actually choose anything from Evie's library. There had been far too many songs to consider them all seriously.

"What do you have then?" Shelby wasn't upset, not yet. She seemed confused, she should have been able to tell that what little talent Quinn had tended towards quieter songs, but she wasn't upset. That would come in a few seconds.

"Nothing," the blonde girl admitted reluctantly. She started automatically into a half-formed explanation, knowing full well that she had no excuse. "I had a lot of things to deal with over the weekend and I forgot. I've been under a lot of stress recently and I'm not used to these sorts of things. I..."

"Didn't do the assignment, huh?" Shelby asked, lips pressed thin. Quinn just nodded. She wasn't willing to trust her mouth to work right. "You had an iPod earlier. Get it out." As Quinn complied the older woman stepped around her desk, digging through the cabinets so she could pull out a pair of speakers.

"Since you failed to complete the assignment, Miss Fabray, there are going to be consequences." Shelby claimed the iPod from Quinn's fingers when the younger girl offered it. "I'm not going to take your solo away. I can't, not with the club in the state it's in. You have, however, lost the opportunity to choose your own song. I told you that we don't have time to waste and I meant it. I can't wait until next practice to get our potential setlists ready. I need them today."

Shelby didn't bother searching through the Ipod's contents either. She just plugged it into the speakers, unlocked the screen, and selected the first song that presented itself. "So, sing this," the older woman spoke over the beginnings of the pentatonic introduction to Mulan's 'Reflection.'

"Are we allowed to sing Disney songs at Invitationals?" Quinn asked nervously. She knew that she had been going through the same list looking for a song earlier but that wasn't the point. She didn't want to have to give an impromptu performance.

"It's not for Invitationals, doesn't matter," Shelby answered. "I need to hear how you sing solo so I can choose your songs."

"But, Miss Corcoran..."

"I didn't ask you to comment, Miss Fabray," the teacher said icily. She had told the truth. Beth or no Beth, Shelby Corcoran wasn't about to play favorites. "I told you to sing. Do you know the song?"

"Yes."

"Then sing!"

"It hasn't started yet," Quinn muttered. It had been a while since she had felt so powerless at school. Most of the other teachers were willing to tiptoe and kowtow around Sue's head cheerleaders. The experience reminded her once again of the Cheerios, of when she had been an inexperienced freshman just learning how to avoid treading on Sue's eccentricities. Shelby was nowhere near insane as Sue but it looked like she would still need to be treated with care.

The song had an impressively long introduction and, even though Shelby had left the music low enough that the original voice wouldn't drown the blonde girl out, Quinn knew it well enough to know when she had to begin.

(sung)"Look at me."

Quinn had to rely on the soundtrack for the words of the first line but, once she finished, the rest of the lyrics came rushing back into memory.

She had to repress a groan.

This was probably the Disney song that she least wanted to sing.

Firstly: of course there had to be a body-length mirror there, just screaming to be stared into as she sang about looking at herself. Quinn realized that they were backstage and that, at Mckinley, that was where they stored the props but it felt a little too convenient.

"I will never pass for a perfect bride,"

The second reason why Quinn didn't want to sing was because she didn't have to grasp at all to find the personal application.

"Or a perfect daughter."

Shelby had found the time to hunt down a notebook and she was seated at her desk, diligently jotting down observations. She only glanced up at Quinn for fractions of seconds at a time. Quinn was ok with that. It left her more free to panic on her own. Mercedes was there, paying attention, but Mercedes probably understood. She had known Quinn for longer than Shelby. Shelby hadn't known anything at all about Quinn's family situation, excluding Beth, until just a few weeks ago.

Quinn didn't know why she kept ending up reacting this way, why it was that music kept piercing straight through all her carefully formed masks and disguises. It hadn't been a problem in sophomore year. She had barely sung in sophomore year. Now, though, the entire world seemed intent on making Quinn show herself. Fate kept throwing songs at her that revealed things that she hadn't even known about herself. She hadn't realized how truly she wanted to make Rachel popular or how much she wanted a perfect movie romance.

She hadn't realized how impossible it was to keep up her act, keep following her father's path, forever.

"Can it be,  
>I'm not meant to play this part?"<p>

Quinn's voice was simpler, clearer but not necessarily better, than the voice of the original recording. That was normal. In the nineties, when the movie was made, if you weren't overworking your notes then you were doing it wrong. She felt the song though. It applied to her effortlessly. With all of her problems she was far from being a perfect bride for anybody at all. She couldn't be Russell's perfect daughter. Maybe she wasn't meant, able, to do so.

Like it or not, people were always looking at her. Quinn Fabray was doomed to be one of the central figures of the high school hierarchy. Whether that was as reigning dictator or fallen princess had changed a few times but the constant attention hadn't. That was the way Russell wanted it to be. He had given her the part to play.

She was the one who couldn't keep it up.

"Now I see,  
>that if I were truly to be myself"<p>

Shelby and Mercedes' presence was really only an afterthought as Quinn's mind raced. Evie had never had problems with the role expected of her. It was Quinn that had failed. She had fallen. She had messed up with Puck, lied to everyone, been kicked from her home and the Cheerios, been unable to find success even in something as denigrating as glee. Quinn had proven spectacularly that Evangeline was the real Fabray princess, that the younger daughter was only a replacement for someone far better than herself.

Even after regaining her former status Quinn was still amply proving her own insufficiencies. She couldn't balance her home life and the Cheerios demands. She couldn't find a single person who really sparked any sort of interest for her flawed heart. She ruled with cruelty where Evie had held sway with kindness. She couldn't, honestly couldn't, let go of her connection to her father's most hated personal enemies; she thought she would have rather left her home and gone to live with Rachel, no matter how ridiculous the idea sounded, than lose their friendship.

If all of that was thanks to some flaw inside Quinn, some incapacity that she shouldn't have had then,

"I would break my family's heart"

Quinn caved to the near magnetic pull of the mirror, unable to resist performing just the slightest bit. She had been performing all her life, there was no reason to stop now, the damn song was called 'Reflection,' and the mirror was right there. She let her eyes take herself in. Shelby and Mercedes could think whatever they wanted.

"Who is that girl I see,"

Perfectly styled, feathery, golden-blonde hair framed an equally immaculately made up face. The steadily worsening chill of fall didn't permit the girl in the mirror to show much skin but the sweater she wore over her long dress was stylish. There were no animal prints or argyle for Russell's daughter. The black stockings served both to keep her legs warm and to thematically connect the skirts of her dress to the tops of her boots. It had been a pain to run in those earlier, her emotional distress had blocked it out in the moment but that didn't make it comfortable, but the extra inches of height they provided were valuable.

Quinn flipped her eyes back up to the face. Russell's daughter was composed, attractive, valuable. She looked the part.

"Staring straight,  
>Back at me?"<p>

She wasn't Quinn.

"Why is my reflection someone I don't know?"

Quinn was a mess.

"Somehow I cannot hide,  
>Who I am,<br>Though I've tried."

She had spent so long perfecting the mask, what Russell and everyone else wanted to see, that she had let what was inside deteriorate. Quinn barely knew who she was. She didn't know what she stood for. Was it for Russell, for Sue, for Rachel, for Beth, for herself? Was there enough of an actual person left behind Quinn's disguise to stand for that? The blonde girl didn't know. Everything was a tangled mass of confusing threads and, as it kept growing, it was starting to break out.

"When will my reflection show,  
>Who I am,<br>Inside?"

Quinn didn't take the line in the same sense the movie had. She didn't want to devolve into an uncoordinated mess outside as well as in. She didn't want to make her outside like the disaster it covered. She wanted quite the opposite. She needed to become that girl in the mirror, the one who was sure of herself in spite of everything. That girl was the one who could change things. Quinn could never hope to change everything around her when all she did was react to her surroundings, present one face to her father and another to Rachel and another to Shelby and another to the Cheerios. She had to decide who she wanted to be.

She had a feeling that would take a while

"When will my reflection show,  
>Who I am,<br>Inside?"

Quinn finished, breathing more heavily than the short, rather tame, song really merited. She hadn't decided that she wanted to become Russell's Quinn Fabray, that would have been a sure path to misery, but she did want to start mapping out her own path. All she knew was that the starting point was Beth. She wanted to be, years down the road, someone that Beth could be proud of. All it took was a glance at the baby who, Quinn realized, had been watching with interest for at least the last part of the performance to confirm that that would make a good guideline.

(spoken)"Thank you, Miss Fabray. That's enough." Shelby said, still austere. She folded down the corner of the page she had been using, marking it for later, before snapping the notebook shut. She rose from her seat as she continued speaking. "I'll have several songs ready for you to practice on Wednesday. If you'll wait a moment then I'll send back your visitor while Kurt, Mercedes, and I work on the setlists out front. Can you watch Beth for me while we do that?"

Quinn just nodded, too embarrassed to really respond. She still didn't understand how Rachel could stand pouring so much of herself into a song. It must have been terrifying for someone who had been rejected time and time again to keep opening herself up. That was assuming, of course, that Rachel followed the same process that Quinn had so recently started discovering. Quinn needed to hunt down her bridge to each song. Maybe Rachel just found hers naturally.

Mercedes mouthed a silent, 'good job,' before following Shelby out frontstage. Quinn just shrugged to herself. The black girl was being kinder than she deserved. The situation with Mercedes was just another thing that needed to be repaired.

As the Cheerio listed slowly towards her daughter she felt a weight pressing down on her. There was just too much to do. She wanted to reform the Cheerios, reform her love life, rebuild the bridges she had burned with so many of her friends, protect Rachel, protect Beth, protect herself, decide who she was, decide what she wanted, plan for the future, and what felt like a million other things. She didn't know how to keep track of them all. She felt so tired...

That was it.

She was tired.

It was the same thing she had realized curled up with Rachel during the sleepover. She was letting her legitimate physical limitations drag her down emotionally. She was tired again and, being more occupied than ever, it was making her depressed. She needed to shake it off. She was Quinn Fabray. She didn't just lose. She knew she could handle everything. All she had to do was rest.

That, unfortunately, was going to have to wait until after Sam had finished talking to her.

The blonde boy took long strides towards Quinn, smiling broadly. He had stowed the gameboy so at least Quinn knew she wasn't going to have to compete for his attention. Quinn reminded herself to be patient. Even if she weren't going to try and see if she could cultivate a relationship with the boy she still wanted to be a better person. She couldn't let exhaustion drag her back down into irritability.

"Hey, pretty lady," Quinn ducked her head and smiled. It was only part of the act but, given time, there was the possibility that it could grow into something else. "Was that you I heard singing?" It had to be better to try and build than to sit around idly, waiting for a love at first sight that might never come.

"Yes," Quinn answered, searching around in her heart for any spark of anything. Sam was charming, he was willing, all Quinn had to do was want him. All she needed was something to light the flames. Why was that so hard? "It's good to see you, Sam."

It wasn't a lie either. She was, at the very least, glad to see the boy. This was something she could put right on her own, without having to wait for Rachel or anyone else to act. She could give him his chance, ignore the fact that his joining the New Directions was going to drag them down like an anchor. That didn't have to matter if she was really going to love him.

"It's good to see you too." Sam responded simply. "You sing really nice but," he paused after the compliment and his grin widened a bit, "I already knew that."

"Oh really?" Quinn remembered their Breadstix duet as well as she assumed Sam did but she wanted to see where he took the lead. She waited, still not quite looking at the blonde boy.

"Well, I've followed you both times I've heard you." the boy audibly moved closer, shoes tapping against the hard wood of the stage. "That makes you like one of the sirens of Greek myth."

"What," Quinn smirked playfully, only then actually looking up to make eye contact with Sam. He was a lot closer than she had thought and the blue of his eyes mirrored the fun she was having. The banter was a game to him too. At least they had that much in common. Finn had never been much of a match for her in a verbal back-and-forth. "A half-bird monster luring you to your doom?"

"I was thinking more about the more modern idea," Sam clarified. He wasn't smirking, Quinn thought he seemed a bit innocent to smirk, but the blonde girl could still sense the satisfaction that came from a sure success radiating off him. "A beautiful woman, an entrancing voice, totally irresistible."

He leaned in. Quinn didn't have time to blush like the script demanded. She didn't have time to do anything but try to respond to the mostly unexpected brush of lips on lips. She was too busy analyzing the kiss, looking for anything more than the physical contact itself.

It was longer than their two previous kisses had been and, in theory, that should have helped. Quinn's body should have reacted. In the extra time she should have been able to uncover something. There was nothing though. She couldn't even summon up the same feelings that a peck on her cheek from Rachel would have caused and that was something entirely different. Quinn had already decided that those kisses felt different because they were friendly, not romantic. Sam was just like the rest of the boys Quinn had kissed before.

That wasn't a reason to give up though. Quinn had already known that she didn't feel anything for Sam. She had already accepted that she was going to have to go along trying to make those emotions grow. She had just been hoping that there might have been some figurative sprouts poking through the ground.

Beth squalled noisily and that was more than enough of a reason for Quinn to end the kiss and turn to her baby. The little child had managed to totter unsteadily over to her mother's leg and was patting insistently as high up as she could reach. Quinn took the moment to take a step back away from Sam, gathering the girl up into her arms.

"Who's this?" Sam asked as Beth turned to stare at him.

Quinn answered without thinking, "Shelby's daughter." She didn't want Sam to know she'd had a child. That sort of checkered past, that potential responsibility, was exactly the sort of thing that would send a normal teenage boy running. It was things like that that gave a girl a reputation as a slut, as damaged goods. Sleeping around didn't do it on it's own, Santana and Brittany had been with most of the football team and they were still seen as desirable. No, you only got a bad reputation when the consequences hit.

"Weird," Sam smiled at the baby, "she looks just like you, beautiful eyes and everything." Quinn's conscience twinged yet again and she sighed quietly. She wasn't being entirely honest and, if she really wanted something better, she needed to start. That was really the hard part about the whole reform process. She didn't just have to shovel away a mountain of filth. She had to shovel her way out from underneath it and she was likely going to have to suffer a bit in the process. She just hoped it would be worth the effort to become like the girl in the mirror, Rachel's mythical Quinn that apparently did no wrong.

"And my daughter too," she admitted quietly. It hurt to let the sentence out, to go against all her manipulative instincts and tell the whole truth, but she knew it had to be for the best. If Sam walked away then he certainly wasn't the sort of boy that Quinn wanted to end up shackled to. If he didn't then it was another proof that he was something Quinn should have wanted.

"Woah, what?" Sam didn't move, didn't stop smiling, but Quinn nearly flinched at the words anyway. She controlled herself because the boy was still smiling, reaching out to play a little with Beth. "How does that work? She's a teacher and you're a student and, well, you're both girls."

Quinn blushed a violent red as she figured out what Sam was implying. "I'm not gay, Sam," she complained.

"Well, yeah, I thought we just proved that pretty well." Quinn blushed, if it were possible, even more. That kiss, that emotionless kiss, was Sam's proof that she wasn't gay. She wondered if he would have said the same thing if he had been able to read her mind. "I was just going off what you said, I never called you gay, and, you know, there are more things than just straight and gay anyway."

Quinn didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to have this discussion with Sam, period. It reminded her far too much of a certain locker-side altercation with Finn, one that had ended with her yelling about glee clubs and big gay beards. That was the sort of meeting she had originally been planning to have today. Now the focus needed to be her, Sam, Beth. She didn't want to let all of the sexuality confusion ruin things for her.

"I am Beth's mother," Quinn said, unable to completely remove the exasperation from her voice, "and Shelby adopted her." She willed the matter to stop there, any further questions would probably only make things worse.

"Cool," Quinn let herself smile again as Beth burbled happily. The baby had captured the finger Sam had been using to tickle her chin and she was waving it about victoriously. The three of them stayed there in silence for a while, the only noises the indistinct sounds of the other Trouble Tones on the other side of the curtain.

Sam was the one who spoke. "Quinn," he began slowly, "I wanted to talk to you about something important." He set his guitar down on the floor and swung his backpack around so he could start going through the pockets. Quinn cocked her head, shifting her baby a little bit in her arms as they both tried to see what Sam had planned.

"Go ahead," she said, more to keep the conversation glowing than anything else.

"Some guys might call me old fashioned or lame," Sam mumbled into one of the pockets of his backpack, "but when we're doing what we're doing, when I like a girl and she likes me, I want there to be a commitment there." Quinn nodded quietly. That was entirely understandable, especially if he had heard anything about her history.

"I was talking with my dad the other day," Sam commented, "and he told me about how he met my mom." The blonde boy pulled something, Quinn couldn't quite see what, out in the palm of his hand. The backpack quickly joined the guitar on the floor and he kept talking. "They were high school sweethearts but Pa just didn't think that was going to last on its own. Teenagers do stupid things and hurt each other all the time. Sometimes love on its own isn't enough."

"So, one day when they were alone, he got down on one knee," Sam sank to the floor and that was when Quinn's heart started racing. "He pulled out a ring," Hazel eyes widened in terror as Sam's hand opened to reveal a little black box. The other hand moved up to pull back the lid, revealing the ring inside. It was a lovely ring, though Quinn thought the intricate band was probably worth more than the tiny emerald it held in place, but that didn't matter.

"Oh my God, Sam," she blurted out, unable to control herself, "please tell me you are not seriously proposing right now." She wasn't ready for that. She had only just decided to try and see if they might be compatible. She couldn't seal her life to Sam's forever while they were still barely getting to know each other. That would have been insane.

"No, I'm not," Quinn breathed a sigh of relief but Sam didn't get up of the floor. "Not yet anyway. What I was going to say was that he asked her to make him a promise to stay true. This ring, the same ring that my dad gave my mom in high school, is a promise ring. It's a reminder that you care a lot about someone out there. Maybe someday I'd like to get down like this and ask you to marry me but, for now, I'd be happy knowing for sure that you're my girl."

"Quinn," he continued, "will you be my girlfriend?"

Quinn thought about it. That was a much more acceptable compromise. It had already been assumed by most of the school that they were together and, from the selfish political point of view, it was absolutely the best thing to do. Absolutely stabilizing her hold on the quarterback would help Quinn whether he was in a glee club or not.

The problem was that Sam sounded like he actually was asking for so much more than Quinn could give. She didn't know if she could love him. She didn't know if she'd like to be Mrs. Evans some day. She barely knew who Sam was. All she had seen was the slightly goofball football player with the ridiculous haircut. She hadn't had time to learn more about him.

But, on the other hand, it seemed likely that if she turned him down now then she'd never get that time. Quinn wanted to know Sam. She fervently hoped that, against all odds, he could be the one for her. If the only way to investigate was wearing a ring then maybe that was ok. It wasn't like Sam had any serious competition in the moment.

"Yes," she said, nodding. She smiled the best she could. It should have been easier, she should have been looking forward to the potentially optimistic outcome, but under the weight of exhaustion and years of negative outlook Quinn couldn't muster up the beaming grin she wanted. She just smiled.

"Your hand, milady," Sam was grinning, at least. When Quinn had met him she had assumed that he was just playing the same game as everyone else and, honestly, he probably was but maybe there was something more than that too. Maybe some of his gentlemanly charming air wasn't just a facade. Maybe he actually could care about Quinn.

The cheerleader shifted Beth in her arms again, freeing her left hand to be presented to Sam. The boy plucked the ring from its cushy packaging, took Quinn's hand in his, and slowly slid the ring on to her ring finger.

The ring hung there loosely, wobbling slightly from the vibrations in both of their hands.

It didn't fit.

It wasn't right.

"Crap," Sam said flatly as Quinn pulled her hand back to her, flexing her fingers slightly. The ring hung there, resting on the knuckle, and all she could do was stare. "My mom must've gotten it resized over the years. We can do the same thing if you want. You can't go around with the ring looking like that. Here," he reached out towards Quinn's hand, "let me take care of it..."

"No," Quinn said, moving her hand and the ring out of Sam's reach. "I've got a better idea." It was better for her, at least. She pulled on her necklace, the one Finn had given her, the one that still had his rose hanging from it, and undid the clasp at the back. She threaded the chain through the ring, let the pretty little piece of jewelry slide down next to the rose, and redid the clasp. Finn had been thoughtful enough, at least, to get her a necklace that closed easily.

"It's closer to the heart this way," she said and Sam seemed happy enough. He rose to his feet and pulled both Quinn and Beth into a hug. As Quinn returned the gesture and Beth squealed happily the teenage girl could feel the extra weight swinging gently against her breast. It would stay there for now. They could worry about resizing it when Quinn was sure that she really wanted it on her finger, forever.

"I'm going to have to go," Sam said. He was quiet, in tone with the moment, but happy. "It's actually a little better if I get in early to work. There's a chance to pick up some more money that way. Thanks, babe" He kissed Quinn's forehead once, did the same to Beth, collected his things, and turned to go.

"Sam, wait!" Quinn called, remembering something just before he passed the curtains. There was something more she needed to do, wanted to do.

"What?" Sam turned to face her and Quinn hurried over, Beth giggling in her arms the whole way.

"Just," she didn't know how to put it. She couldn't be too specific or she could be accused of treason to the squad. Being too vague, though, wouldn't help anyone at all. "If you see a short redheaded girl in the hallway and she's carrying a slushy..." The blonde girl struggled for the right words.

"Get out of the way," was all she could come up with.

"What?" Sam asked but Quinn didn't let him continue.

"Just do it," she insisted.

"Alright," Quinn smiled, "will do. Thanks for the warning." He didn't sound convinced but if he just obeyed then he'd be able to avoid his first experience with the painful side of McKinley politics.

It was really the least Quinn could do.


	31. Interlude 165: Flying

A/N 1: Glee is the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy and/or Fox Entertainment

A/N 2: Thanks to man0verboardx and lucyurga13 for following and favoriting the story. You made me smile. I hope I can return the favor. Thank You!

Thanks to ShadowCub for reviewing again. I'm sorry if I gave off the impression that I was offended. I wasn't. I very much appreciate your repeated input. I must admit, though, that with the exception of the 'more please,' which is a request I will comply with, I didn't really understand your review. I get that you're concerned about something and that you feel, correctly I might add, that Quinn's going to have to give some things up but I'm not sure what more you're concerned about. If you'd like to converse via PM then I'm more than willing. Thank You!

Thanks to for favoriting the story and leaving a review. It's nice to know the identity of the Hello!Guest as well. I'm glad you liked the last chapter and I'd like to welcome you into the Fanfiction community with a big Hello! :) Thank You!

Thanks to IAlreadyHaveAPlan for favoriting and following Pretending as a story, for following me as an author, and for leaving a lovely review. I found your praise both eloquent and flattering. It makes me feel nice to have a fan as well-articulated, in a written sense obviously, as you. I promise you that Rachel and Quinn will keep progressing down the road I have planned step by step, little by little, even if that road takes some turns through a darker area. The destination's a happy one though. We'll get there eventually! Thank You!

Thanks to bubbies for favoriting and following both me and Pretending as a story and for leaving a review. All I ask of you is that you share the story with other people who might enjoy it so they can experience it the way you have. :) Thank You!

Thanks to Anonymous Hippie guest for leaving a review. Were you saying that you want to speak via inbox?

Thanks to stargazer1294 for your continued criticism and feedback. In addition, many thanks for your willingness to talk on more personal terms. I hope you end up being glad you took the decision. Your review raises many valid points. It's clear that you've thought this through to some extent. I'm working out a response that I'll send to you via PM. These author notes aren't the place to carry out our conversation since: 1, I believe that the discussion is going to end up moving away to the story itself and will revolve more around character motivations and 2, it's also prone to get spoileriffic and I've been asked to keep that to a minimum. We'll be speaking. Thank You!

A/N 3: Further reviews, criticisms, feedback, and suggestions are all immensely appreciated.

Interlude 16.5: Flying

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Rachel Berry had never known that she'd be grateful for being short.

She had almost always accepted what other people would have called her defects, her 'man hands' and her nose and her stature didn't bother her much anymore, but she also recognized that they could be limitations. Her height could make it difficult to get a role as the leading lady when said lady needed to be more statuesque. Her hands and nose made it difficult to find a partner in a school full of Santanas, Brittanys, and Quinns.

The brunette smiled, not just because Sue was screaming at all of them to do it either. She had already beaten the second problem; the very same girl who had invented the awful nickname all those years ago, the fantasy that Rachel had tried to quash as ludicrous and impossible, Quinn Fabray was hers. Hers. Hers. If Quinn was acting a little weird, as the bubbling fears that sometimes crept into Rachel's mind whispered, then that was ok. Quinn was new to all of this. It had to have been a little uncomfortable for her. She had made it clear that she did what she did because she wanted Rachel safe.

So, every time they showed up, Rachel crushed those fears. If Quinn kept avoiding real kisses, if Quinn couldn't find the words to express how she really felt, if Quinn couldn't entirely throw off the chains that had bound her for so long and realize that Rachel wanted to be happy a whole lot more than she wanted to be safe, then that was ok. Rachel, despite what many of her fellow students thought, was patient. Rachel understood now that her angel would be happier trying to protect her. Rachel understood how Quinn really felt without Quinn needing to say a word at all.

Rachel loved Quinn.

She knew that that was a bit of a dramatic pronouncement, even one that she was only making inside her head, for the tiny amount of time that they had spent getting along. She was supposed to be dramatic though. She was Rachel Berry! She was at least as sure of Quinn as she had been about Finn or Jesse. It wasn't like she was shouting it out to the world anyway, no matter how much she wanted to. The world wasn't ready to hear it. Quinn herself might not have been ready to hear it. Rachel couldn't risk ruining her plans, her flight from Lima with her newest partner, after she had spent so long building them back up again.

Quinn loved her now despite the 'defects' she had once attacked. Rachel knew that. If Quinn couldn't say it then Rachel would wait. She knew. She just knew.

As for being short: that qualified her to do exactly what Quinn had predicted. Rachel's height, coupled with her slight frame, made her a natural choice to fly.

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany stood beneath the diva, supporting her as she posed. All the girls, Rachel included, were wearing Cheerio red and white. With their hair pulled back and the throbbing beat pulsing across the football field they felt like a team, united. That was incredibly odd, considering how the Cheerios had treated Rachel only weeks previously.

The brunette felt her smile falter as the beat progressed and she fell into the waiting arms of her squadmates. She still wasn't entirely used to the sudden lack of... anything beneath her. Even more than falling, though, she wasn't used to people catching her. She had been tripped in the hall more than her fair share of times. She had never been caught before.

That wasn't why Rachel's stellar smile had threatened to desert her, though. People catching her could hardly be counted as a bad thing. No, she was fighting within the depths of her soul because she had a decision to make. She had come to the Tuesday practice like Quinn had asked, begged really, but that had only been a delaying choice. The real struggle was much more complicated than what Rachel was doing by showing up to one more practice, simply giving in to someone to whom you had entrusted your heart when they pled for a meaningless favor.

The real struggle was figuring out what to do when someone to whom you had entrusted your heart pled for a favor that went against everything you stood for.

And Rachel only had three more days to do it.

The tiny girl crouched down and, just on cue, three sets of hands launched her spinning into the air. She had scarcely had weeks to learn what she was doing but she was pretty sure that, in those weeks, she had practiced more than some of the other girls on the squad had during their entire lives. Rachel had spent hours and hours practicing on the trampoline behind her house, out in the freezing cold, doing handsprings and flips and anything else people could think of. It had payed off.

Rachel wasn't perfect yet but, this time at the least, she managed to execute the entire turn before falling comfortably back into the arms of the girls she could now call her friends. She was pretty sure that when competitions came around, especially if they were in early November like Sylvester was speculating, she could be ready.

That was assuming that Rachel would continue with the Cheerios, of course. She couldn't decide. She was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place.

How was Rachel supposed to say no to Quinn when she was asking Rachel to help her improve both herself and the Cheerios, especially when that was something that Rachel had wanted for so very long anyway? How was she supposed to say no when her beloved angel asked her for anything at all? It felt to Rachel that, looking into those golden eyes, anything and everything Quinn said made sense. That was why she couldn't look at the girl when they were fighting. The temptation to just give in, to surrender and let Quinn keep her safe however she wanted, was nearly overpowering.

On top of that, Rachel really did enjoy the Cheerios. The flipping and the spinning and the posing was fun and, surprisingly enough, she was actually good at it. It felt good to belong to a team where things followed an order, where the students obeyed instead of squabbling. It was wonderful that, in fulfillment of Quinn's promise, Rachel hadn't had to clean herself off in the bathroom even once since she had received her uniform. It was good to have friends, to be popular, to be what Quinn would have called safe.

It was a shame that it came at the price of making other people miserable.

All those things, all those benefits, all those feelings, especially Quinn, were hooks trying to keep Rachel from doing what she knew was right or, rather, avoid doing what she knew was wrong.

She crouched again, preparing for another journey through the air. This stunt was more complicated. The previous one had just been a frontflip. This one involved multiple turns in a single flight.

Her mind didn't stop racing. It hadn't stopped since her confrontation with Quinn. Rachel had never liked leaving something half-finished. It wasn't in her nature. All she had been able to do was distract herself for brief moments of time. Eventually she always returned to the same problem: Quinn needed her, Rachel Berry, to slushy someone.

How was she supposed to do that though? How was she supposed to send some poor student, potentially weeping, to the bathroom covered in stinging ice when she knew so very well what it felt like? What would happen if, years down the road when she was famous, the story ever came back to haunt her? How was she supposed to deal with the fact that the bullying was apparently institutionalized, directed by Sue? Would Rachel want to belong to any organization that did such things even if she didn't have to directly participate?

Quinn had said that they were going to try to change the Cheerios and, really, Rachel believed that they could. They both had sufficient drive to do anything they wanted to once they had found a motivation and their lofty positions as co-captains gave them a fantastic amount of leverage. The question wasn't if they could do it, it was if it would be worth the price.

Taking the first step down into the corruption that had so thoroughly infested the Cheerios, even if it was to clean it up, even if it was to save Quinn, was a scary concept. What if Rachel couldn't get out once she had sunk down? What if they were wrong and Sue would never change things no matter how much pressure her students applied?

What if Rachel ended up liking it?

She was suddenly flying again. She hadn't been paying attention and she wobbled, failing to complete the whole stunt. Her bases still caught her but that didn't change the consequences. Sue was already tearing into her failure to perform, insults and cruel jokes that Rachel didn't care to listen to screeching from the megaphone. Only one line really stood out from the torrent of abuse.

"If you don't pay attention to what's really important then you're going to mess up!"

The only question was: what was really important?


	32. Chapter 17 part 1: Evangeline part 1

A/N 1: I don't own anything at all. I even give up any rights that I may have to Original Characters, seeing as I'm creating them in a universe that doesn't belong to me. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy/Fox Entertainment.

A/N 2: Thanks to QuinnFann, SinisterSeraph, GinnyClaw, Odiezac, Lightning11, and ffmail11 for following the story. I hope I can keep you entertained. You've signed up for quite a long show. Thank You All!

Thanks to goliath1899 for following me as an author. Like I've said before: I'm not sure if I'll be writing anything beyond this story but your show of confidence is still greatly appreciated. Thank You!

Thanks to Haden Breslin for favoriting the story. Feel free to chime in with feedback, either via PM or review, when you have anything you want to say or ask. Your input, along with everyone else's, is greatly valued. Thank You!

Thanks to Jandar for favoriting and following the story. I like your name. It's interesting. I'm glad that I'll get to see it when I review the list of people who have favorited the story. Thank You!

Thanks to bubbies for your thoughtful review. I like your ideas and theories, especially since they're nearly all correct within the Pretending universe. I'm just fairly certain that I've placed everything within a larger time frame. (SPOILERS)Rachel's choice is going to be pivotal in her relationship with Quinn. At some point things are going to have to get stirred up in order to produce the change that Quinn needs. At some time Rachel is going to have to make that painful correct choice.

Later.

(/SPOILERS) Take consolation knowing that I've planned things out since nearly the beginning and I do love the characters. It hurts me, as a loving author/semi-deity (the position of writer, for me, is one of a God over his own written universe,) to see them suffer and make mistakes but it's necessary for the sake of the story and the progress of the personages. I encourage you to cling to that patience you mentioned practicing. With my slow update schedule and the pace at which the story itself progresses you might need it if you want to see some of the things you mentioned. Thank You! (Feel free to contact me via PM if you'd like to talk more. I try to be a pretty friendly, open, guy.)

Thanks to a very special guest for reviewing. (SPOILER ALERT) You made me feel a little bad because, you know, you're right. Rachel would be making a colossal mistake, morally at the very least, by caving here. Slushying people is not a good thing to do, no matter what your excuse is. I hope it's clear that I know that. Unfortunately, people sometimes mess up for a variety of reasons and that includes Rachel. All I can do is promise you that everything will turn out well in the end of the story. Thank You for your time.(SPOILER ALERT)

A/N 3: Further reviews, comments, criticisms, etc, etc... are all appreciated.

Chapter 17 part 1: Evangeline part 1

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Calling...

Calling...

Calling...

Quinn Fabray sat in front of the computer in her room Tuesday afternoon, waiting for Skype to stop telling her that it was calling and actually make the call. She drummed her fingers against the base of the keyboard impatiently, excited and a little bit terrified at the same time. She needed this call to go through. It was the first time Quinn had seen Evie online since adding her sister's name to her Skype and she wasn't quite sure what to do.

A lot of that was Quinn's own fault. Even in the age of Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr the younger Fabray daughter could hardly be called technologically inclined. That, too, had been part of her upbringing. Russell wanted his daughters intelligent but not nerdy. So, even though Quinn had known enough to taunt Rachel on her hilariously outdated Myspace, she still didn't spend a lot of time online herself. She preferred books, cooking, practicing for the Cheerios, healthier and more productive hobbies.

That was why it had taken two days to see Evie signed in. Quinn tried to avoid the massive waste of time that the Internet represented. She didn't have enough close friends to worry about what they were doing on Facebook and Twitter, She had no interest joining up with communities that were seemingly composed of hundreds of wannabe Jacob Ben Israels, and the idea of spending hours in front of a screen for something that wasn't a school assignment was frankly repulsive. Quinn had no doubt that that was how Lauren Zises spent her free time and the blonde girl had no interest in ending up like that.

Quinn was, though, going to sit there until Evie either answered or until the little green dot next to her name vanished. Quinn had actually spent, for the first time ever, actual money on an online service. Her Skype account had only existed to receive calls before, mostly ones she rejected. She was certain that Santana had given out her username because each time she logged in, infrequent as that was, she usually received a few calls from people she had never met before.

Russell also would have disapproved of her buying just about anything online but, in this case, Quinn didn't think he'd mind. Evie was the shining jewel in Mr. Fabray's crown. If anything he would want Quinn talking to her older sister as much as possible in the hopes that some of the perfection would rub off. The Fabray father practically worshipped his oldest daughter, now that she had successfully run the race that had been set for her. Somehow, Quinn didn't think that she'd be remembered the same way.

A quiet bubbly noise from the computer screen announced that Quinn's call had been answered and the display quickly changed from the default screen to solid black as it waited for the camera feeds to load. Quinn suddenly felt short of breath. Over the last six years she had only seen Evangeline once and that had been at a, what Quinn assumed had been intentionally, short visit to present Richard Parson Jr. to his maternal grandparents. The sisters hadn't exactly had time to catch up and re-bond.

"Quinn?" A man's voice, deep and strong, spoke as Richard Parson Sr. popped into view. Quinn would have known that it wasn't Evangeline even it had been a woman's voice, though. Evie called her younger sister Charlie. The fact that she didn't have to see her sister quite yet did help Quinn to calm back down. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Rich," that was the nickname that Evie's husband preferred, "It's me." Richard had never kept his dislike for his inlaws too secret and while Quinn couldn't really blame him she also couldn't deny that the feeling was mutual. Richard was a massive man. He had Finn's heigth, Karofsky's sheer muscle mass, and what felt like Puck's sleazy charm. That helped him with his job, nobody denied that Puck could be ingratiating when he wanted to, but to a young Quinn Fabray it had just marked him as 'slimy'. "Is Sarah around?"

"She's in the kitchen," Richard knew who Quinn was talking about straight away. The rest of the world, parents included, called Evangeline by her considerably more common middle name. "I just got back from work and she's getting something ready. You're lucky I passed by the computer. Who knows how long you would have been here waiting? Want me to get Sarah for you?"

"Yes, thank you," Quinn nodded. It couldn't hurt to be polite to Richard, no matter how intense her instinctual dislike might have been. She had only been eleven when she had last known the man, that was plenty of time to change, and eleven year olds were hardly known for the quality of their judgement calls. A decision to give Richard another chance fit in nicely with Quinn's new desire to improve herself and, after everything else, she was asking him for a favor anyway. Russell would have made Judy stay in the kitchen until the food was done. If Richard was willing to finish up his own snack so that his wife could spend time with her sister then that was a small positive point for him. It deserved kindness.

"Alright, you got it," The blonde man straightened up, he had only been leaning over the back of a chair before, and simply walked offscreen without any further interaction. "Honey," the younger Fabray sister could hear him calling, "you're needed at the computer!" Quinn didn't worry about the time and, consequently, money slowly ticking away as she waited. The allowance Russell gave was actually rather generous. The problem was lack of acceptable things to buy, not lack of funds. The weekly payments Quinn received piled up over time.

"What is it?" Quinn could hear her sister's voice calling. Either the kitchen was a lot closer to the study room where the Parson family computer was than Quinn would have thought or the computer itself had a really good microphone. In either case it was evident that Richard and Evangeline's house was as materially comfortable as Russell's, at the very least. Quinn could only see a small square of the study, thanks to the limitations of the other computer's camera, but the dark wood paneling looked expensive and the massive bookcases must have taken both time and money to fill so completely.

"Just come, you'll like it!" Richard was chuckling slightly. Maybe he knew something about how badly Evie had wanted to talk to her sister. Maybe he was just assuming. Either way Quinn was already bracing herself for the look that would spring onto Evie's face when she saw her younger sister. Even if Richard didn't know anything, Quinn did. Quinn knew that Evie had been waiting for years to get in touch with her. It was a little odd that she hadn't done anything herself to help the process but Quinn, too, would have wanted to do things her own way after getting away from Russell. If that ended up leaving Evie just the tiniest bit eccentric then Quinn could understand.

"Coming, coming," Evie responded, "you have to finish your own freaking pasta though." Most people described Evangeline's voice as angelic and, really, it fit the girl. Russell's prize daughter had been nearly perfect. Quinn couldn't help but wonder what her sister would have sounded like if she had been permitted to participate in glee. Sandy Ryerson had been in charge so any talent probably would have been wasted but it was still an interesting concept. How would the Fabray princess have squared off against the Rachels or Sunshines of her year? How would she have responded to actually being outclassed in something?

"Because I've been in that kitchen for an hour and a half frying meat and stirring sauces for your fancy gnocchi." It was strange, hearing Evangeline frustrated, as the older daughter's voice grew nearer. It was playful, with that edge of natural sarcasm that she had never been allowed to use at home, but still distinctly frustrated.

She was venting. Evie never vented. She just quietly accepted with dignity and grace whatever came her way and dealt with it. She had been Quinn's example of good behavior for a lifetime and now she was chewing out the husband she was supposed to love and obey. The idea didn't quite fit in Quinn's brain, not even thinking of it as some inside joke. She didn't like the possibility that Evie might have changed.

"And if you think I'm taking responsibility for anything that burns in there when you called me to the study to..." Evie whisked into the camera, glanced down at the display, and froze.

"Oh my God, Charlie!" The words pushed themselves out of Evangeline Fabray's mouth one on top of the other competing, moreover, with a sudden delighted giggle. The older sister melted down into the chair, frustration evidently forgotten as she brushed back her perfectly styled hair to get a better look at Quinn. "Long time no see, baby sister."

She still sounded like Evie, at the very least. Evangeline clearly hadn't changed her vocabulary much since leaving the Fabray home. She was still young, to be fair. Her first child wasn't much older than Beth. It was only to be expected that she'd still sound a lot like the teenage sister Quinn had said goodbye to years ago.

"Hi, Evie," Quinn nodded shyly. The younger sister hadn't known exactly what to expect and now Evangeline was right in front of her, looking as enthused as Quinn had ever seen her before in her life. She didn't know how to respond beyond that basic greeting and acknowledgement. Evangeline was practically a sacred icon in her old home. Saying anything that might potentially interrupt the quiet joy that had sprung into being seemed like a sin.

"You found the box, then?" Evie herself, though, had no such qualms. She spoke confidently, happily, and Quinn could borrow confidence and happiness from her older sister's tone. Evie had always been her assigned role model anyway. That didn't always have to be a bad thing.

"Yeah," Quinn confirmed, "I found the box." She had found Evie's secret stash, transformed into a hidden time capsule intended specifically for Quinn, two days previously on a Sunday afternoon. "Thank you," she added respectfully. That box had been full of gifts, ones with a value Quinn hadn't been able to fully search out yet. She hadn't even begun to look through the massive digital photo album her sister had left behind.

"You're welcome, baby Q," Evie smiled. It really was remarkable how much she resembled her younger sister in appearance. Evangeline's extra six years had matured her, in an elegant sort of way, but she still had the same soft golden hair. She had the same well-defined facial structure, the same pale complexion. The only substantial difference and, really, the only place where Quinn felt that she could claim any superiority over her sister at all was in the color of their eyes. Evie had inherited her mother's simple brown eyes more or less directly. Quinn's golden-hazel eyes were more evidently a mix of both parent's traits.

"I got an alert that someone had logged into my Itunes from home on Sunday," Evie continued. "I figured a call couldn't be too far behind." The older Fabray sister leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands. "Enjoying the music, Charlie?"

"Yes," Quinn responded. She was enjoying it, after a certain sense of the word. She hadn't been able to get through that library either, partially because Evie had bought a ton of music after getting out of the family home and partially because Quinn herself generally didn't have time to sit around listening to music. There was too much to do. Worrying about Rachel, the Cheerios, Sam, and the Trouble Tones were swallowing up what little free time her family duties allowed her.

"Good," Evie just smiled, "tell me, how have you been little sister? I imagine it gets lonely in that big old house." It did, but Quinn was used to being alone. Her relationship with her parents was dead beyond any real hope of ressurection, her only concept of a real friend had been a scheming Santana Lopez for quite some time, and the six years since Evie's departure had given her time to harden up. It was lonely at the top. Quinn had accepted that. It had only been recently that someone, Rachel, had started forcing their way in with her.

"Sometimes," the younger Fabray admitted. Now she wished that someone, anyone, could be there with her. That had been part of why she had wanted so badly for Evie to answer the call. It seemed like Rachel avoided talking to Quinn when she was upset or trying to think because the blonde girl had barely heard anything from her best friend since the incident with the list. Rachel had shown up to practice earlier in the day which, in and of itself, was a massive relief and she had responded briefly each time Quinn sent a message. The diva wasn't really conversing with her friend, though, and the emptiness felt worse now that Quinn knew what it was like to have something there filling it.

"I'm tired, Evie," Quinn confessed, slumping forward slightly. She could confess that much. Russell wasn't home, it was surprising how little time he spent in his own home when it was that more than anything else that was truly his domain, to hear his younger daughter complain. Evie had defended her in the past. Evie was perfect. Evie would understand. Evie could help her.

"What's wrong, Charlie?" Evangeline, for her part, just sounded sympathetic. She might have been the only other person in the world who could have understood some of Quinn's situation. She was the only other person who had lived it. She had never messed up though, never fallen and failed. Quinn was certain that things were ten times harder now that she had clawed herself out of the muck. Still, Evie was the only person Quinn could really trust. She was family, Quinn actually got along with her, and she lived far enough away, still within the state of Ohio but not all that close to Lima, that the things she could do with a confession were graciously limited anyway. "If you need help we can skip the pleasantries. I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Evie, but I'm ok," Quinn shook her head. Her sister didn't need to overreact. All Quinn needed was someone to vent to, someone to give her advice. Evangeline could do that without having to freak out. "I'm just tired. Things are... confusing. I don't know if anyone but you would understand." Quinn paused for a little, trying to order her thoughts. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say or ask or even what her complaint specifically was beyond just being tired. That was something that she had never really managed to put into words, no matter how long she tried or how many component problems she identified.

Evie just waited as Quinn chewed the situation over. She was tired. She needed to figure out exactly what was draining her if she was going to try and get better.

The Cheerios took a lot out of everyone, of course, and the situation with Rachel wasn't helping at all. There had been no final decision given and, try as she might, Quinn couldn't just force the matter to sit down and shut up. Every so often a little nagging worry would whisper its way into the back of her head and she had to quash it again. There was nothing she could do. The only thing possible was to hope that Rachel would see reason and take the best, if not for Mckinley as a whole then at least for the two of them, decision.

The Trouble Tones were stressful though, admittedly, not for the reasons Quinn had originally expected. She had thought that she was going to have to watch Beth, save her from the unfit hands of Shelby Corcoran, but that was turning out not to be the case. Shelby seemed, from what little Quinn had seen, like a fine mother and Beth's presence was really more blessing than added obligation now. No, the Trouble Tones were stressful because Quinn knew that in a few weeks she was going to have to go head to head with Rachel Berry.

That idea seemed ludicrous. Nobody in their right mind, Quinn herself included, could honestly think that Quinn Fabray could outsing her best friend. The blonde girl was certain that Kurt and Mercedes had only accepted it because A: they had all the confidence in the world invested in their own duet and B: Invitationals didn't matter anyway. Quinn doubted that she even had the support of her own family. Rachel's fathers were acutely involved in their daughter's progress as a singer. Quinn's father had only permitted her to participate at metaphorical gunpoint and her mother barely remembered that she was even in a glee club. There was no legitimate comparison.

Quinn's love life had recently become both complicated and tiring with the discovery that she actually did want one. It had been an easy thing to manipulate Finn; there had been no feelings involved. It had been easy until Quinn realized that she wanted to get feelings involved. Now she was trying to juggle the multiple tasks of continuing to control Sam, trying to kindle some sort of spark in their relationship, and trying to quash the pernicious rumor that she was somehow gay for Rachel Berry. All of that was incredibly taxing.

Worst of all, though this wasn't anything new, was her life at home. Even with Russell temporarily tranquilized, even with Judy showing sparks of independent thought, Quinn still spent the majority of what should have been free time cleaning the house and cooking meals. It had been easy to start enjoying all of the social politics and manipulation that had been thrust upon her because it was when she was when she was participating in them that it was easiest to get permission to leave. If Quinn were on a date with the Quarterback or a field trip with the Cheerios then she could go somewhere else, duties suspended and no questions asked.

The only thing new, the only thing that did add more stress to the mountain of tension on the blonde girl's back, was her friendship with Rachel Berry. Quinn had lied to her parents before, Babygate immediately sprang to mind, but it had only been to hide small mistakes. Now Quinn, rather than hiding small one-time screw-ups that she had no intention of repeating, was hiding a continued act of persistent rebellion. She had been forbidden to associate with the girl more than the minimum necessary and she hadn't payed any attention at all. The minimum necessary was a lot higher than Russell thought it was. Quinn needed Rachel's friendship.

So, in the end, everything that Quinn could think of came back to Rachel.

Rachel was making her tired.

But it wasn't Rachel's fault.

"Evie," Quinn broke the patient silence, "did you ever have to do something... behind dad's back?" It was the Fabray's fault, really that Rachel was a problem now. Quinn didn't throw all the responsibility on her father, she had made more than her share of choices to deliberately widen the rift between her and Rachel, but she didn't absolve him either. At least Quinn was trying to make things better now. Russell was still dead-set on carrying out a vendetta against a girl that Quinn doubted he had ever met before. That was why Rachel worming her way into every facet of Quinn's life was concerning. If Russell found out then the proverbial shit would hit the fan.

"Like what?" Evie asked, frowning slightly. It was almost surprising to see actual creases form in the older girl's face, an actual concrete sign of age. The wrinkles wouldn't have been there if the girls had been meeting in public, out in the real world Evangeline would have been perfectly painted and gorgeous, but now Quinn could see the slow toll time was taking on her sister.

"It's something for Sue," Quinn told a half-truth. Rachel had certainly come to be a lot more than just another assignment. She wasn't sure if she could say that to Evie though, not within the confines of Russell's home. That would have been tantamount to blasphemous sacrilege. Maybe in some other, safer, setting she'd be able to tell her sister what was going on but that wasn't going to happen in the moment.

"Weird," Evie quirked an eyebrow and Quinn had the momentary feeling of looking into a mirror once again. "Dad was usually pretty on board with all of Sylvester's crap"

"She's gotten worse," Quinn responded. It was true too. Now that there were teachers who were actually willing to stand up to Sue the cheerleading coach had kicked her insanity into overdrive. Will and Shelby and the new football coach hadn't been around in Evie's day. If it hadn't been for them then Sue probably wouldn't have ever sent her captain after Rachel Berry and, thus, Quinn wouldn't have been in the same mess. Quinn wouldn't have traded the mess for the uncomplicatedly miserable life she had been living before but that didn't simplify the situation.

"Well, Charlie, I can't lie and tell you that I ever had a problem like that." It was like Quinn had suspected. Evie had never really had to deal with the same pressures her younger sister was supporting. Russell's plan had only ever produced the desired results under idyllic circumstances. Still, the situations were similar. It wouldn't be smart to give up entirely. "I'm actually kind of surprised that you're able to hide anything from dad. He always had his nose stuck in everything when I was in school. You ought to be tired if you're managing to keep something from him."

Evie's countenance turned thoughtful as she continued, "I can sympathize with the bit about Sue though. Crazy old bat always did lean a bit heavily on the captain." There was a brief silence as Evie took her turn to think. "You wanna know what I did when things got a little out of control?" Quinn just nodded, willing to listen to her sister's advice without interruption. "I would fall back on my friends."

Quinn stifled a little frustrated noise, letting it die unexpressed in her throat. "When dad and coach were both pushing me to lose a few more pounds, I swear I was practically anorexic for a few months there, it was actually the other girls on the squad who got me to see sense. Richard helped too, of course." Quinn didn't have the support network that Evie had had. Quinn had a lot of followers but very few supporters and almost no friends.

"They reminded me that I already fit into the damn dress for the chastity ball and that dropping below a hundred pounds was probably going to make me a worse cheerleader, not a better one." Quinn didn't have people who could do that for her, except maybe Rachel and Rachel was at the heart of the problem. "That took a lot of pressure off me, baby Q. Get your friends to back you up and you won't have to deal with so much on your own."

"That's the thing, Evie," Quinn cut in. She grit her teeth, hating that she was going to have to admit this to make any real progress. "I don't really have any friends." She had only herself to blame for that. She was the one who had messed up. She was the one who had trapped herself in the situation where the only way back to reclaiming her position was the ruthless one. That cold ascent, in and of itself, hadn't earned her any new friends and it had alienated a lot of her old ones. Rachel was new but, again, she was part of the problem and Quinn still didn't want to let Evie that far in.

"Nonsense," Evangeline responded curtly and that was really surprising for Quinn. All of her memories of her sister had been of meek gentleness, softness, and kindness. Whether it was that Quinn's memories had deteriorated or that Evie had actually developed over her six years away from home things were just the slightest bit different from how Quinn had thought they'd be. "Don't be dumb, Charlie."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I do know that you're more of a loner than I was and that isn't a bad thing either. A better word would probably be independent," Evie ran her hand through her hair, brushing it back out of her face again as she gave her analysis. "If dad's trying to make you grow into the same mold I did then he's making a mistake. I don't doubt that you can do it, baby Q, you're a strong girl, but I don't think you'll like it much either."

Evie continued, "You've always had a good core group of friends though. Don't pretend that you haven't. As far back as daycare there was always at least one person that you played with all the time." She thought again, scrunching up her face, "There was that one girl, dark hair, incredibly obnoxious but kinda cute anyway."

"Santana?" Quinn suggested. Replacing the word obnoxious with sarcastic certainly would have made for a decent description of the Latina. They had been 'friends' for long enough for Evie to remember even after six years.

"Could be, you'd probably remember better than I do." Evie shrugged and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"From daycare?" Quinn asked pointedly, smirking a little. She could barely remember general events from first grade. "When I was three?"

"Point taken," Evie sighed, also smiling, "If it's that important I'm pretty sure that I left a boatload of photos of the two of you in those memory cards." Quinn idly noted the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs. Russell had probably arrived home , though, not from work. Mr. Fabray had managed to acquire several days of vacation time so he could help the local pastor organize the revival that was rapidly approaching. Quinn didn't give the sound too much thought though. Russell never came into her room.

"The point is, kiddo, that you do have friends and they should be willing to back you up. Ask them. The worst that'll happen is that they'll say no and you'll know that you need some better friends." Quinn could do that. She could go to Santana and Brittany and get them to help her and Rachel change the Cheerios, assuming that Rachel made the necessary choice. She could lean on Rachel a little bit more. The tiny girl seemed to love it when Quinn was more genuine, even if it did come at a price. "Get your boyfriend involved too. That's the point of having a boyfriend. If they're only in it for the kisses then you aren't going to want to have them around later anyway."

That also made sense. If Quinn was going to be lenient on Sam, let him join his glee club and try her hardest to love him, then he was going to have to help her out in some other way. She was going to need to turn him into a source of strength, not another drain.

"Quinnie-puff," Quinn froze, heart rate rocketing, as a voice sounded in the door of her room. Evie must have seen her face or, maybe, she could see the unwanted visitor because she muttered, 'aww shit,' under her breath. "We need to talk."


	33. Pretending: Chapter 17:p2 EvangelineP2

A/N 1: I own absolutely nothing. All characters, settings, plots, and ideas based on Glee belong to Ryan Murphy/Fox

A/N 2: Thanks to , RhiannaWickson, moodyapple123, Erniebgood, and bmonies for following the story. I'm always well pleased to see that a few more people liked the story enough to want updates on it. Thank You All!

Thanks to mirrorball37, Dc199636, and DaemonCain for favoriting the story. Feel free to leave me any critiques or comments you might have so I can continue writing an enjoyable story. Thank You All!

Thanks to dis-kus1 and BOredNOw333 for following both me and the story. As I've said to everyone else: I'm not sure if I'll be writing any other stories but at least this way you'll get a double alert when I update. XD Thank You Both!

Thanks to Linksys for following the story and... leaving a review. I'm afraid I'm not incredibly sure what you wanted to transmit with your concise statement. If you could clarify it I'd love to discuss.

Thanks to bubbies for leaving another wonderful review. It seems like you're almost thinking on the same wavelength as I am because we're in total agreement. Evie can see things that Quinn can't (and vice-versa,) under the current circumstances Rachel would be truer to herself not going along with Quinn's plans, I like what you think about those kindergarten photos, and Evie and Quinn's eventual meeting is something I've got plans for. I'm glad you enjoyed the update and I hope you enjoy this one too. Thank You!

Thanks to Shadowcub for reviewing again. I'm flattered by how long you've been following the story, even if we have had some minor differences during that time. I'd just like to remind you, just in case, that Quinn doesn't blame Rachel for her exhaustion. She blames her father and herself for bringing the situation to such a point. I'm also not saying that mental/emotional exhaustion is a problem on a world hunger sort of scale but it is what's bothering Quinn right now. Given her past I think we can understand why that might be difficult for her. Thank you! (Also: apologies if I misinterpreted your comment. Thanks.)

Pretending: Chapter 17: part 2: Evangeline part 2

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"What are you doing?" Russell Fabray asked, direct as ever, as he made his way into Quinn's room. Quinn herself spun around in her chair, arranging her face in an instant. She couldn't see it but she could practically feel Evangeline doing the same thing on the computer screen behind her. No matter how stressed or tired they might have been, the proper response to 'daddy dearest' was something they weren't ever going to forget.

"Talking with Evangeline," Quinn answered, smile painted securely on her face. Russell didn't look angry and that meant that he probably wasn't. The younger sister's heartbeat slowed slightly as she realized that. She had been worried about him having heard something, having figured out about Rachel, or just having come home drunk and in a bad mood. Even if she didn't know exactly why he was in her room now at least he wasn't mad, not yet.

"Really?" Russell's eyes lit up, a happy expression that Quinn hadn't seen in a very long time spreading across his face. He came closer, whatever he had wanted to talk about momentarily forgotten. It seemed like a rush of excitement similar, for him, to the one Evie had experienced upon seeing Quinn again. "Let me see."

"Hi daddy," Evangeline simpered, demure as her younger sister had ever remembered her, as Quinn scooted backwards to make way for their father. Quinn didn't resent the somewhat second class treatment, she was used to it and if whatever Russell had to talk about with her was so important to him that he had actually entered her room then she thought she would have preferred delaying it. There was almost no doubt that, as Evie had noted, she wasn't going to enjoy being crammed even further inside his perfect daughter mold.

"Sarah," the man grinned. Quinn took the opportunity to study her sister's face. Six years ago she hadn't known how much pressure she was going to be under in high school, she hadn't known what signs to look for in Evie. All she had been able to see was Russell's happiness with his perfectly performing daughter and envy it. "It's been far too long. I must say, I didn't think I'd be completely losing my favorite daughter when you got married."

"I had high hopes when you passed by with your son but, see, nothing seemed to change." Now, though, Quinn had learned. She could see the thinness of Evie's smile, a tiny dull blur of disinterest in the brown eyes. She wondered if Russell noticed all the same signs she picked up on. She wasn't sure. Experience had been her teacher and it had proved to be a particularly apt one. She knew what to look for because she knew what was difficult to arrange, which tells she had to work to hide. Evie would have had that same experience or one that was sufficiently similar to teach the basics. Russell wouldn't.

"Is everything all right? Do you need any help? What's going on, Sarah?" Or maybe it was just that Russell didn't care what people were feeling so long as he was obeyed. He was good enough at masking himself on the occasions when visitors graced the Fabray home. Maybe he could read every cue, every nervous tic that Quinn failed to hide, but he just didn't care. It was a terrifying prospect.

"It's, um, nothing, daddy," Evangeline looked down and away from the camera as she evaded the truth. She had clearly been honest with Quinn earlier. She hadn't ever had to hide anything from her father. Maybe a few trampled feelings, a few unexpressed sarcastic comebacks, but never anything as serious as her present situation. Evangeline didn't know how to break the news to Russell that Richard hated spending time with the Fabrays but she didn't know how to hide it either. "Richard's been having some problems at work and it's hard to travel with Charles."

Quinn assumed that 'Charles' was the second name of Evie's child, so called to avoid confusion with the father whose name he shared. Russell's eyes narrowed slightly and Quinn's conscience started nagging at her yet again. If she hadn't called then Evangeline wouldn't have been in such an uncomfortable situation.

"You don't need to worry about the kid," Evie looked and Quinn felt bewildered at the excited urgency in their father's tone. Quinn imagined that, once upon a time, Evie had been used to hearing it. She should have been accustomed to to her father's inappropriate enthusiasm where she was concerned. Over the years she might have lost touch with that but Quinn had never had the chance to get used to it. She had always received strict commands, been held to the unflinching bar of her sister's perfection. "I'm sure Quinn can take care of him for you while you're here. It'll get her some practice before she has one she's going to keep."

"Wait, what?" Evangeline interjected, aghast. Even Quinn, with all her disciplined experience, couldn't stifle an indignant grunt entirely. Beth was sacred. Any comment that Russell made that came anywhere near the baby rankled. It struck Quinn that it was possible that Evie didn't know about Beth, that everything with Babygate had gone down after the older sister's last visit. Quinn didn't know if the shock on Evie's face came from hearing that her younger sister had had a baby or just because of Russell's crude offhandedness. Both seemed probable.

"Quinn screwed up pretty bad last year," Quinn could feel the blood coloring her cheeks as she blushed. Russell still sounded just as excited as he had before now that he was explaining the single most mortifying event of Quinn's life. "I know it's hard to believe from any of my daughters but she fell, got pregnant out of wedlock with a delinquent's bastard child, and carried it around on stage singing and dancing for nine months." Quinn smoothed her hair back, trying to cool down and fight the anger that would only get her in trouble.

"She made the right choice in the end though." The way that Russell almost sounded proud of that actually made Quinn feel nauseous. Evangeline looked disgusted too but, thankfully, that look was trained firmly on her father. "Giving the thing away was the best option when all is said and done. If you bring Charles around we can let Quinn see what it's like to really be a mother while we catch up."

"God, dad," Evie glanced apologetically at her younger sister before turning back to stare at Mr. Fabray, "she's right there. I know that I haven't been around as much as you'd like but Quinn's your daughter too. Do you even care?" The older sister was definitely out of touch with life in her family home. It all came back to the fact that she had never fallen, at least not seriously. She couldn't understand the gap between Quinn and her father.

"She screwed up," Russell repeated, as though that somehow made a point. His eyes narrowed further and Evie set her face in what Quinn could recognize, even after so many years, as Fabray-family stubborn. She was reminded of the other time Evangeline had taken a stand, and a lecture, for her. She hoped that she wasn't going to have to do it again.

"Last year, daddy." Evangeline argued, "let it be. It's in the past and dragging it out to beat her with it isn't going to help anyone."

"She seems perfectly happy to keep remembering it," Russell grew exasperated. He must have imagined his joyful reunion with his 'favorite daughter' going much differently. "Quinn spends half her time after school these days prancing around in a glee club with the same damn woman who cleaned up her mistake." It looked like he wasn't fond of remembering Shelby either, now that the woman had rejected him. "The worst part is that the kid itself is there too. That doesn't sound to me like Quinn..."

"So what?" was Evangeline's irritated interjection and both Quinn and Russell recoiled a little in shock. "I'd want to see my baby too. Is there something wrong with that?" Quinn had never thought that Evangeline could muster together the bravery necessary to actually talk back to her father, even through a computer screen. It was one thing to take a bullet for a younger sister but an actual show of rebellion, no matter how small, was something else entirely. Was this something that Evangeline had developed during her absence or had it always been there, hidden only by a desire for peace?

Evie's eyes softened and she spoke before her father could formulate a coherent response to the unexpected insubordination of his eldest daughter. "Daddy, I love you." It was weird hearing the genuine tones in the woman's voice. She actually did love Russell Fabray. Quinn hadn't sounded like that since the night she had been kicked from the house, since she had made one last plea for understanding from a father she had still in some ways admired. That feeling had died for Quinn almost a year ago. All that was left was anger

"And I know you love me too," Russell nodded in confirmation of what all three people present already knew. Russell loved perfection. Evie was perfect. The result was only obvious. "I'm your daughter and you're my father. That means we're linked. Doesn't it make sense that Quinn might feel that way for her baby? Shouldn't you feel that way for Quinn?"

Quinn supposed he should have, that any good father would continue loving his daughter no matter how badly she failed. She even thought that she could probably try and love her father again if only there were any true signs of change from him.

There was only silence from Russell.

"Mommy," a high pitched voice from the computer spared the man the trouble of answering. It didn't do the slightest bit to help Quinn forgive the additional slights against her daughter but it did let her sweep them under the rug just like every other bad feeling in the Fabray house. "Mommy!" A young boy, Evie's son, rushed into view of the camera. The blonde hairs of his head were the only parts visible until Evangeline swooped him up onto her knee.

"Hungry," the boy insisted, patting his stomach through his turtleneck, "noodles." He looked up at his mother with his little brown eyes before realizing that there were other people, strange people, on the computer screen. When he saw Russell and Quinn watching him he buried his face in his mother's shoulder, hiding.

"Just a second, Charlie," Evie said kindly and Quinn nodded. Her sister's son took priority. That made sense.

"Go ahead," Quinn didn't have any problems with Evie attending to her child. She could use the opportunity to talk out whatever had motivated Russell to interrupt in person instead of just demanding Quinn's presence and also, hopefully, to eject him from the room before Evangeline's return. She knew that she would have given Beth priority over anyone else anyway.

"No, Quinn," Evie shook her head, smiling slightly, "we call Charles Charlie too." Quinn blushed again but for entirely different motives. The way her sister was looking at her, the almost shy smile on her face, made it clear that the shared nickname was more than just coincidence. "Say hi to grandpa, Charlie." The little boy just shook his head, refusing to look up from his mother's shoulder.

"Hi there, Charlie," Russell surged forward, shunting Quinn a little bit further out of the frame. The name, after so long hearing it only from Evangeline, sounded almost profane on his lips. Charlie had been so distinctly Evie's nickname for Quinn for so long that, grateful though the younger sister was for the unknown and unexpected display of affection, hearing it applied to someone else by Russell Fabray was confusing. It was her name. Russell shouldn't have been using it at all. "I'm your grandpa. Can you say hi?"

Charles peeked back away from his mother before hiding again. Quinn wasn't sure if it was because of the two strangers on the computer screen or just because of the manic overenthusiasm that Mr. Fabray was expressing but the boy wasn't interested in talking. The younger daughter couldn't help but compare her father's present euphoria to the near indifference he had displayed towards Beth in their only meeting. Russell was interested in Charles, the heir and offspring of a legitimate union, he had only used Quinn's daughter to try and get closer to Shelby.

"Sarah," he complained as Charles refused to budge, "this is a disgrace. What sort of kid doesn't leap at the chance to see his grandparents?" Mr. Fabray shook his head disapprovingly. "This is why you have to visit more often. You'd think I was a total stranger, the way he's acting." Quinn didn't bother mentioning that they functionally were strangers. She had practically been pushed out of the conversation anyway. If Russell hadn't had something to tell her then she probably could have slunk away unnoticed.

"We've been waiting for a good moment, daddy," Evie lied quietly, running her fingers through Charles' hair. Whatever momentary bravery she had just found was gone. Now that the subject had shifted back to her and visits and family reunions she was just trying to avoid the subject. Evie could stand up for Quinn but not for herself.

"Well, that's great news, sweetie," Russell's tone had changed too. He must have understood something of the truth behind Evangeline's reticence. He wasn't speaking with that same worshipful reverence that he had used before. He sounded smug, triumphant, the way he always did when he thought he was about to win. He sounded the way he normally did when he was talking to Quinn. "Because I've got a fantastic moment for you to come and visit us."

"You'll remember the Reverend Doman," Quinn did, at least. The deathly-thin preacher had baptized both her and her older sister. Every Sunday in Quinn's life, Sundays were the obligatory meeting days in the Fabray house, she had been taken to the chapel to pray and sing and listen to the pastor's prepared sermon. It wasn't something she necessarily enjoyed but, after so long, it fit comfortably into her routine. God was important to Quinn. She could willingly make the minor sacrifice. "For some time now we've been working on a revival to win souls for Christ in this decaying town and money to help remodel the chapel."

"Well, we finally got an actual date figured out. The eighth of November we're all," Russell's stare made it very clear that he included Evie's family in that statement, "going to be in the church. The event itself should be enough of a reason to come but it just so happens that there's something more." The man reached out, placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder and drawing her back into view.

"The Reverend's decided that we're going to have a youth preacher in this revival. The rising generation's been so confused by their music and movies and left wing teachers. The Reverend had it right when he said that we're coming into the times when men will call light darkness and darkness light. The youth of Lima need a shining example." Charles whimpered again, patting his mother's arm insistently, but Russell just plowed forward. The topic had changed. Mr. Fabray's grandson was no longer relevant to the point he was trying to make so he was either going to have to sit there quietly until his grandfather cared to bring him up again or be ignored.

"It isn't going to be anything huge," explained Russell to his captive audience. If it weren't for the possessive hand on her shoulder, indicating that she'd be needed in some way shortly, Quinn might have tuned her father out. "Just a ten minute speech. We haven't even worked out the topic yet. What Reverend Doman has decided, though, is that my Quinn is going to be the one to give it!"

"Now," Quinn remained silent as understanding was handed to her on a platter, "I reminded the Reverend about Paul's admonition against women speaking in church." To Russell this might have seemed like a wonderful surprise for Quinn, the equivalent of an early Christmas present for his good, obedient, Christian, daughter. He might have gotten excited about her potential reaction, about the reaction he wanted to see at least, and that would explain him coming into the room. That was why the revival would be an unmissable event for Evie and her family. Evangeline, being perfect, had to support her younger sister.

"He was persistent, though, and I can't deny that there's no one in town better prepared for the role than my girl." Hearing the tones of approval, almost pride, directed towards her in Russell's voice were the strangest things of the afternoon for Quinn. "Lima's very own prodigal daughter, returned to full fellowship and grace before God." Mr. Fabray was disappointed, disillusioned, with Evie, at least for the night. He had been reduced to issuing nonverbal commands, as unable to bridge the gap with his absent daughter as he normally was with Quinn.

"She'll be able to testify of the difference between the sweet and the bitter better than anyone else." Tonight, though, those little clues and hints that said that Russell was actually content with Quinn for the first time in a long time were stirring something. It was small, a more than half dead feeling covered with a year of dust deep in the recesses of Quinn's soul, but it was moving. "She's been in a good Christian home and out in the world. She can show the way back for all the other youth that have strayed. Most importantly, if the Reverend is so intent on permitting a female speaker, this way I can at least write the sermon."

It didn't matter that Mr. Fabray was still embarrassing her. It didn't matter that his motives were insincere and he was more worried about controlling what was going to be said. A tiny part of Quinn responded to the pride in her father's voice. Something tweaked at that deep instinctive bond between parent and child and Quinn smiled, just a little.

It was disgusting.

"Congratulations, Quinn," Evie smiled too and Quinn chose to focus on that. She didn't want any good feelings from Russell, not until he had fully and truly repented anyway. As much as Quinn wanted parents who truly loved and supported her she wasn't willing to buy into her own con. She couldn't believe in the false image she worked so hard to help project. Nor was she like Rachel, willing to give and capable of forgiveness at the first signs of possible changes. Quinn was weaker. She couldn't see her way to that. "I never got to speak in church."

"Thanks, Evie," Evangeline's pride, just as obvious as Russell's but infinitely less sickening, Quinn could accept. That could be the reason why she was smiling. The sister bond had never died. It had only gone kissing for a while. "I'll do my best."

"The Fabray family's blazing new trails." Russell, of course, didn't let his daughter get too many words in. That would have been too much to ask for. "My Quinnie-puff's going to be the means of saving a whole generation. I only wish that you could have gotten the opportunity, Sarah."

"Mommy! Noodles!" Charles grunted impatiently. He still hadn't looked at the camera since realizing that there were people he didn't know there but, apparently, he had gotten tired of waiting. Evangeline shifted, standing as she spoke.

"I'll get you some noodles right now, sweetie. Ok?" Evie took the chance to make her escape. She balanced the boy in her arms, for two years old he was large, before addressing the camera. "I've gotta go now, duty calls. We'll keep in touch though." Evangeline leaned in towards the computer screen, motioning with the mouse. "Bye!"

"Goodbye, Sarah!"

"Bye, Evie," Quinn said, all but drowned out by her father. She hadn't missed the fact that Evie had 't technically promised to come to the revival. She would probably show up anyway though, especially now that Russell knew that he could use Quinn to get in contact with her. Quinn liked to think that Evie would have come just to support her but, if that weren't the case, then near-constant harassment from Mr. Fabray would also do the trick.

Russell was already halfway out the door, apparently the revival had been all he needed to discuss, when he called, "Quinn."

"Yes, daddy?" Quinn answered as automatically as ever. Feelings or no feelings the routine hadn't changed.

"I'm going to start preparing a few possible talks for you," Quinn supposed that that, at least, was an upside. She didn't know where she would have fit sermon preparation into her already exhausting schedule. Taking the time to talk with Evie already meant that she was going to have to start her homework behind schedule. "I want you to get dinner going while I do. It looks like your mother's rather tired today." 'Tired' was code for 'drunk' and Quinn had already been expecting the assignment.

"While you do I'd like you to start thinking about what you're going to wear at the revival. We need to plan for events like these in advance. I haven't seen that pretty white dress of yours in a long time. You should get it in tip top shape before the eighth." Quinn nodded and Russell left. She knew which dress he was talking about. It was currently moldering at the back of her closet, a horrendous blue and purple slushie stain rendering it unfit for use. She'd have to find some time to get a new one.

It was just one more thing to work on.


	34. Pretending: Chapter 18: Finn Was Right

A/N !: I understand that there were differing opinions on the choice that Rachel was going to have to take. While I certainly hope that this chapter helps clear up why she chose what she did, I also recognize the other option as distinctly plausible. With that in mind I've written a brief, one-shot, beginning to an alternate storyline. I encourage you to check it out.

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee is the property of Fox Entertainment/Ryan Murphy.

A/N 2: Thanks to SwanQueen4055, Mystery Science Theater 3K, Ryo Oh Ki7, j edgar, Sonic Love23, and sahelanthropus for following the story. As always, I invite you to offer up your opinions and suggestions. I'm always open to feedback, especially from people who like the story. ;) Thank You All!

Thanks to CarolineSC for following me as an author. We'll see if I ever get around to writing something non-Pretending connected. Thank You!

Thanks to xxxSimplyHookedxxx for favoriting me as an author. I sincerely hope I can live up to your expectations. Thank You!

Thanks to thisdork, shenell, and Sailor Phoenixflame for both following and favoriting the story. I'm glad you enjoyed the story enough to want to stay on top of future updates. Thank You All!

Thanks to BOredNOw333 for favoriting both the story and me as an author. It's a nice little ego boost hearing that word in conjunction with something I've done. 'Favorite!' ooh, tingly. Thank you!

Thanks to priscilla20 for reviewing. I think most of us are quite glad that suicide is in no way an option for Quinn Fabray. No matter how bad or suffocating her home gets she's not giving up, not entirely. She is strong. Now she just has to apply that strength where it counts instead of wasting it. Thank You!

Thanks to , otherwise known as hello!guest, for reviewing. I'm glad you liked the chapter. Thanks for letting me know what you'd like to see. I take every bit of sincere advice I get into account. (It also helps that I was already planning for the things you talked about. XD) Thank You!

Pretending: Chapter 18: Finn Was Right

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Quinn heard Rachel long before she saw her.

The blonde had done her best to give her friend the space she needed. For three days she had bitten her lip during their shared classes once Rachel had made it clear that she was still thinking. She had left her phone at home to avoid temptation. She had even, reluctantly, allowed Rachel to sit with her glee friends during lunch without comment. When the petite brunette stood to excuse herself though, without so much as a glance in Quinn's direction, the blonde couldn't help herself.

If Rachel had decided not to dirty her hands then she didn't have to do that. That was fine. It was, unfortunately, entirely within her rights and no amount of wishing on Quinn's part could change that. If Quinn could have changed the world by wishing then she would have asked for one where Rachel didn't have to throw a slushie anyway. That decision of Rachel's didn't mean that they wouldn't be friends though. It would complicate things, yes, but Quinn wasn't going to let her best friend pull this cold shoulder crap forever.

Quinn rose from the Cheerio's table, heading for the doors as they swung closed in Rachel's wake. She knew that the other girls knew where she was going too, that as soon as she was out of earshot they'd be tittering racy gossip about their co-captains, but she was long past caring. If a miracle happened and everything went as she hoped then they'd be worshipping Rachel before long. If not, well, then Quinn wasn't going to be able to stop the speculations anyway

The problem was that Quinn didn't know where Rachel was going. Any sort of hint might have let her intercept the diva, she had always been faster than Rachel, but there was nothing. She hadn't memorized the girl's schedule, that would have been creepy. She had no idea what sort of things Rachel liked to do during lunch time; over the last few weeks they had spent most of their lunch periods together just... talking. Even her own plans were working against her; without her phone she couldn't even call Rachel.

The blonde wandered towards the choir room. It was the most probable place to find Rachel if you didn't know exactly where she was. The diva was a musical creature by nature and, now that the Trouble Tones were using the theater, the choir room was the best place to go to sing, to be alone. Rachel had confided to Quinn that she went there when she had important decisions to make. Quinn hoped that the decision she was making now qualified.

It was important enough for Quinn, at the very least. If Rachel made the decision that Quinn wanted, even Quinn couldn't honestly think of it as the 'right' decision, then the blonde would be able to start her reform in earnest. She remembered her reflection backstage, cool, confident, Rachel's Quinn, an image that Quinn didn't feel truly represented her in the moment. Establishing peace in her relationship with Rachel would give her a place to start becoming that reflection. Beth was the guideline for future development but Rachel was the firm foundation on which it had to be based. Evie had said that Quinn needed to get her friends to help her too.

So:

She'd change the Cheerios, with Rachel's help.

She'd change her future, with Rachel's help.

She'd change herself, with Rachel's help.

All three of those things needed change, desperately. Despite Sue's insanity, the Cheerios hadn't been so terrible until Quinn had dragged them down. The blonde wanted to fix the damage she had done there. She needed to actually chart out a plan for her future. She needed to burn out the terrible personality traits that Russell had instilled in her.

None of that would happen without Rachel.

Without Rachel Quinn might have never seen the need for change. Without Rachel Quinn wouldn't have the strength to push the Cheerios where they needed to go. Who better than Rachel, the girl who had had her eyes on the prize since childhood, to help Quinn find something she wanted from the future? Was there anyone who could help Quinn truly change her nature better than the patient, forgiving, Rachel Berry? No. No one that Quinn could think of at least.

So, Quinn reasoned with herself as she rounded the corner into the long hallway leading up to the choir room, she needed Rachel. She needed Rachel and she wouldn't have her unless the girl made this one little sacrifice. They'd still be friends, that was a certainty, but Quinn wouldn't have Rachel there when she needed her most. She'd be trying, and probably failing, to change the squad all on her own. Quinn could even see the competition between the glee clubs driving a wedge between them if they weren't united in something. There would be no progress there, no construction of a better Quinn, just a return to the foggy murk that she had lived in for so long without recognizing.

Quinn shook her head, forcing herself out of that endless loop of reasoning and self pity. She had to keep reminding herself that there was nothing she could do to change things. Explaining to herself time and time again all the factors would get nowhere productive. It was much better to focus on other things, things like her plans for involving Santana and Brittany in the Cheerios revolution or the happy little surprise of finding out that Evie had nicknamed her child after her or the paper stuck to the choir room door.

There was no sound coming from within the room, which meant it was highly improbable that Rachel was inside, but there was a single sheet of paper dangling from the door. It was a printed document, the tidily organized letters that filled most of the page made that clear, but someone had scrawled a message across the top of the page as well.

'Alright, Sue," it began. 'I don't know why you want this again, there's absolutely nothing you can do to us at Invitationals, but here it is: our setlist. I'm not going to be bringing it to you though, especially not on my hands and knees. If you want it so bad then you can come and get it. All I'm going to do is remind you to think about how this turned out for you last year.  
>-Will'<p>

The New Directions setlist, that was interesting. Rachel had mentioned that the final results of the tryouts were going to be available today. It looked like Sue, as well, had been harassing Mr. Schue for the list. Quinn didn't know why because Schuester was right; there was nothing Sue could do to them at Invitationals. This copy was apparently meant for the cheer coach though. Quinn reached out, peeled back the tape that stuck the page to the door, and got a better look. She could deliver the list to Sue later.

Quinn started making her way back towards the lunchroom as she examined the list; Rachel clearly wasn't in the choir room. There were three songs there, lined up in what Quinn assumed was the order they would be presented to the audience. The titles were in one column and the participants lined up with them on the other side of the sheet. First was 'Radioactive,' to be performed by all of the guys. Even Puck was on the list though, since he was presently doing time, Quinn found that a little optimistic.

Similarly, the second song included all of the girls as participants. Brittany's hand in the selection was obvious, the girl had sung 'Die Young' at the sleepover a few nights ago. Quinn thought she could detect a slightly apocalyptic note in the song selection, especially as she noticed 'Skyfall' as the title of the third song. Was Schuester really that worried about the Trouble Tones? Was that the theme he was going for. Was it supposed to feel like the end of the world?

Quinn's eyes found their way over to the list of participants for Skyfall and she blinked.

That couldn't be right.

All of the names were on there. That made sense. It was the big finale number. There was one song for the boys as a group, one song for the girls as a group, and one big performance to tie the whole thing together. What didn't make sense was the first big bolded name on the list, the one with the modifier 'Solo' alongside it.

Everyone would be participating in the last number but only as backup singers. The last song was a solo.

And Rachel didn't have it.

Sunshine did.

Revising the entire list, Quinn realized that Rachel didn't even have a leading part in the girls' number. That belonged to Sunshine too. Rachel had been left in the same section as Brittany and Tina, with the backups. Quinn couldn't wrap her brain around it. The idea just didn't click.

Rachel always had a lead role, always. Even when she had shown up halfway through Invitationals last year she had led 'Somebody to Love.' 'Don't Rain on my Parade' had been fantastic. 'Faithfully,' even with Quinn both gritting her teeth over Finn and Rachel's unfortunate chemistry and unwittingly preparing herself to give birth, had been undeniably flawless. How could Mr. Schuester argue with that track record? Sure, they had lost at Regionals but Sue had been on the panel of judges! It was obvious that they had gotten screwed over.

Quinn rolled her eyes. Stupid though the decision might be, she couldn't really complain. She was competing against the New Directions after all.

There was a commotion at the end of the passage, what looked like half the school trying to jam itself into a single hallway. Quinn stowed the paper, quietly folding it and slipping it into a pocket. She had thought that the halls seemed curiously empty. Jeers, catcalls, and raucous laughter seethed from the mass of students. Something major had just happened. The sound was strong, intense, almost violent. It was so suffocating that Quinn almost couldn't hear the single panicked voice clamoring inside the circle.

Once she recognized it, though, things got serious.

"Quiet!" Quinn roared, approaching the throng. Subtlety and serrated calm were for when she already had people's attention. If she tried to speak like that now then she simply wouldn't have been heard. Sometimes you had to shout a little to get your way.

The force of Quinn's voice had the desired effect. Silence spread in a whispering wave as people recognized and shared the news. Quinn Fabray had arrived

"Get out of my way," the blonde hissed without breaking her stride. New Quinn and better behavior or no, she was absolutely not going to tolerate anyone tormenting Rachel anymore. It had been the diva's voice, now just as silent as the rest, protesting and sobbing inside the circle. Quinn was going to get to her.

The crowd parted effortlessly as Quinn entered in past the first ring of students. Boys and girls, already packed tightly in the narrow hall, crammed themselves even closer together to make passage for the Queen. On either side of Quinn people peeled back until, slowly, the center was revealed, the eye of the storm.

There was a small, almost circular, space at the heart of the disturbance where two people stood.

There was a small brunette, face frozen in a perfect picture of shock, orange slushie still dripping from her hair.

There was another small brunette, slightly taller than the other, hand clenched tightly on a crumpled slushie cup. Small flecks of orange ice dotted her argyle sleeve. Her face, more than shocked, was miserably anguished.

Quinn stopped as soon as she had entered the inner circle. She looked impassively, that was the best she could muster under the circumstances, at the slushied girl.

"Sunshine," Quinn said, "go get cleaned up." There was no emotion in her tone. If she had let one enter she wouldn't have known which one it would be.

Because there was joy, an almost overwhelming joy, in Quinn's heart that Rachel had done what she needed to do. She had made the choice. She would stay on the Cheerios.

But how could Quinn even try to feel joy when her best friend's world was so clearly shattered? How could that burst of unjustified light survive under the crushing weight of seeing Rachel on the verge of a breakdown, a breakdown that Quinn was largely responsible for?

The crowd started to part, to permit Sunshine's passage. Quinn had given a command, after all. No one wanted to interfere with that. The Asian girl bolted towards the opening and Rachel ran after her, away from Quinn, after less than a second's hesitation.

"No, Sunshine!" The confusion in the diva's voice sounded so distinctly non-Rachel that Quinn actually failed to follow her friend. "Wait! I'm sorry! Let me help you!" All Quinn could imagine was that whatever reasons Rachel had had for throwing the slushie seemed a lot less compelling now, in the aftermath.

"I don't want your help!" Quinn could still make out the reply, even muffled by dozens of bodies. The silence of the previously rowdy group of students was total. The blonde couldn't blame Sunshine for rebuffing Rachel. She tried to imagine herself approaching Rachel after the first slushy she had ever thrown at the diva. She highly doubted that it would have worked.

The circle of students closed on Rachel, practically corralling the brunette back to the center ring, and Quinn realized that it was because she was still there. She had dismissed Sunshine. Rachel still hadn't received permission to leave. The tiny girl didn't try to escape. She just let out one loud sob, buried her face in her hands, and turned towards Quinn.

"Anyone who's still here in sixty seconds will spend next week in the dumpsters," Quinn announced, moving slowly towards her best friend as the crowd scattered. Rachel's eyes peeked out from between her fingers, bloodshot, red to the rims, terrified as she looked at the tall girl bearing down on her. She didn't run once an exit was available. She simply stood, slightly hunched, hiding behind the same cup that had carried her icy weapon.

Quinn exhaled heavily as as she came within arm's reach of her friend. The silence was heavy, charged, loaded. Rachel had made the necessary choice but Quinn was afraid that she might end up losing her best friend anyway.

Rachel was clearly just as, possibly more, devastated than Sunshine herself had been. Quinn, again, remembered the first slushie she had thrown. Brittany had made an innocent comment, the first time anyone had speculated about Quinn and Rachel being together, and Quinn had overreacted. She had already cultivated a dislike, maybe even a hatred, for the girl who was secretly her bathroom singing partner and ideas like the one Brittany had suggested were even less acceptable then than they were now. Quinn's first slushie had been angry, vindictive, spur of the moment.

And, at least for a moment, it had felt good. The memory went crystallizing, clarifying itself, as Quinn thought. There had been a certain satisfaction as she had unleashed a hail of green ice, her least favorite flavor, at Rachel's face. She had thought that that would forever silence the rumors from both Brittany and everyone else. The adrenaline-fueled shock of the moment and slapping impact had been exciting. Even knowing that it was technically wrong it had still felt like something Quinn was supposed to do, something that was expected of the queen.

Those ideas, what amounted to smug self-satisfaction, had kept Quinn content until she had actually bothered to look at Rachel's face.

Then she had felt terrible.

One of the problems with slushying as a form of bullying was that it was very personal. There was no anonymity involved. Online, posting malicious comments or filling someone's inbox with hate, you could use a mask or an alias but a slushie required someone to be face to face with the victim. Someone had to deal with, more like ignore, the aftermath. Someone had to willfully not pay attention to the miserable state of the student who had just been slushied.

Obviously, in that instance it had been Quinn.

Rachel, even as a child, had been very expressive.

On top of that, Quinn wasn't a monster. She hadn't been then, at the very least. Over time McKinley and Sue and Babygate had hardened Quinn, desensitized her, but that first slushie had hurt both girls. Rachel had been so pathetically shocked, hurt, that the anger Quinn had been feeling in the moment had vanished. Satisfaction had been replaced with shame, gloating had turned to guilt.

Rachel had to be feeling like that now.

The setlist, the results of the tryouts were obviously tied up with the whole mess. Despite all Quinn's careful reasoning, despite her friendship with Rachel and all the obvious perks of Cheerios membership, nothing had managed to push Rachel into a decision. All they had done was balance the scales until this moment of rage, jealousy, and irrational decision. In the end it had been Rachel's ego that had decided for her.

That bothered Quinn to some degree. She didn't like that Rachel, her Rachel, had acted out of spite and selfishness. Rachel was better than that. Quinn was certain that, though it still would have been painful, if Rachel had made a calculated sacrifice for the good of her friendship or the school or literally anything else instead of just exploding she would have been better off. She wouldn't have been there hiding, broken, crying.

As it was, Rachel had made the same mistake as Quinn. Maybe it had been satisfying, even for Rachel, for just a moment but now the girl was crashing hard.

And the worst part was that Quinn didn't know how to help her.

Finn's words, only a few weeks old, invaded Quinn's mind. "All you're going to do is make her just like you or Santana or Brittany or any of you Cheerio clones!" That process had certainly begun. San and Britt had begun their Cheerios careers in the same way that Quinn had, the same way that Rachel had just done it. Santana, Brittany had just thought she was delivering a treat, hadn't been happy either.

"Deep down, I don't think you really want that, Quinn..." The blonde hadn't given any serious thought to the boy's warning but, unfortunately, he was right. She didn't want to turn Rachel into just another cheerleader. She wanted to be more like Rachel not vice-versa. She didn't want Rachel to tread the same trail of mistakes she had led. She didn't want her friend to end up in the same cold, hard, miserable place that she had.

When Quinn had thrown her first slushie it had sucked. She had hated it. It was painful. Despite years of aloofness and airs of superiority, it had been her first personal contact with the world of bullying. She hadn't liked it.

What she had done, though, was accept it as necessary. It was how she thought things had to work. It was the petty, cruel, dog-eat-dog world that she had been raised in transplanted perfectly over into her school life. Maybe she hadn't liked it but Quinn hadn't liked most things in her life for a very long time. She had hardened her heart, ignored the tears, and moved on.

She didn't want Rachel to do that. In a twisted way the diva's present pain was actually a good thing. It meant that she was regretting her mistake and, honestly, that was good. Quinn regretted her past slushies. She just had the dubious benefit of being numb at this point. Now, though, the friends couldn't accept more bullying as either necessary or the way things had to be. Quinn had to help Rachel out of her sorrow, had to lead her to an escape, but she couldn't do it the way she had done it before.

Quinn's path led only to disaster.

How, though, was she supposed to bring Rachel down a path that she hadn't walked? It was impossible. She couldn't. She wouldn't know how. This hazy gray territory, this almost compromise between Quinn's paranoid self-protection and Rachel's adamant morals, was unfamiliar for both girls.

They'd have to explore it together.

That had been Quinn's mistake all along. She wasn't aware how long she had been standing there just trying to puzzle it out but Rachel was still there and she had gotten it. The mistake was thinking that she had to lead Rachel anywhere. That had never been the plan. They wanted to build something new, together.

All they needed now was a reconciliation, no big deal when the one was on the verge of histrionics and the other had been silently calculating in her brain for several minutes.

Quinn exhaled for what felt like the first time in forever, closing some of the small gap that remained between her and her best friend. She didn't hug the other girl, she didn't want to do anything that could accidentally set Rachel off, but she kept her face sympathetic. It didn't take any effort. She already sympathized. The blonde reached up silently with her hands, lowering Rachel's and taking from her the destroyed slushie cup. Rachel resisted at first but slowly let Quinn take the crumpled container. Quinn hoped her friend could do the same with the guilt.

"Rachel," Quinn broke the silence and the diva jerked backwards, hiding her head on her shoulder now that her hands were no longer free. Quinn didn't release her grip though. She was there for her friend, now more than ever. She was just glad they had the rest of the lunch period to work with.

"Rae," Quinn repeated but Rachel didn't respond, didn't look back up. The blonde girl envied, momentarily, Rachel's pet name for her. She needed something more intimate than just a nickname to properly penetrate the guilt Rachel had to be feeling.

"Rae," she said a little more insistently. She didn't have that pet name though and she didn't want to waste more time trying to think one up. Rachel needed her now, not in ten minutes.

"I'm sorry, Rachel." So Quinn just began as she normally did, with an apology. It sometimes felt like she couldn't get through a conversation with Rachel without apologizing. She only had herself to blame of course, she was the one who kept screwing up, but she still didn't like it.

"You?" True to form, that caught Rachel's attention. "You're sorry? Quinn, that's ridiculous!" There was anger there, a lot of it, Rachel hadn't completely cooled off yet but... it wasn't aimed at Quinn. "You," the emphasis on that word made it easy to understand where Rachel was directing her frustration, "haven't done anything wrong! It's me that has to be sorry! I made a mistake! I got mad over, no, best not to think about that; I'll only get mad again. The point is that I let my temper get the better of me again, something that I had absolutely sworn not to do, and that has nothing at all to do with you."

"Wrong," Quinn interrupted. Despite the breakneck pace at which Rachel's lips were moving, she still understood clearly. It wasn't that hard. She had reasoned out the situation beforehand. The blonde finished crushing the slushie cup and shoved it into one of her sweater pockets. Rachel, in what seemed like a strange tiny display of mercy, had only bought the smallest size.

"It has everything to do with me," Quinn countered. She wasn't about to let Rachel take full credit for this... She was loath to call it a mistake after having been an advocate of the same course of action so recently but there were elements that could have been performed better, more discreetly. Apart from simply not slushying someone, which Quinn had to admit that she would have hated as a choice, Rachel could have chosen someone who really deserved retribution. She could have done it quietly, maybe even arranged something secretly with the glee members.

"I've been a bad influence on you," so Quinn didn't really blame Rachel. The diva had been under a lot of pressure. Cup safely stowed, Quinn reached up and took the diva's other hand in hers as she spoke. Rachel didn't resist. "If I hadn't been pushing you towards this would you have even considered it, Rae?"

Rachel thought about it, chewing her lip as she continued to stare at her shoulder. "No," she admitted, "but that's no excuse, Quinn. Regardless of how I feel about you I still have my free agency. I should have been better, shouldn't have... overreacted. I've been disappointed before, after all." Quinn could feel Rachel's grip tightening as she actually started to talk and open up. She held tightly as well, wanting her best friend to feel how much she supported her.

"So," Quinn continued cautiously. Rachel had verbally confirmed what already seemed obvious, that the feeling of their friendship was still there, and she didn't want to damage that. "You made a mistake." She rubbed the back of Rachel's hands soothingly with her thumbs as she paused. The girl still wasn't looking at her. She nodded though, she nodded in agreement as Quinn expressed that what she had done was a mistake. She regretted it.

Quinn was still wrestling with her feelings about that. The rational side of her, the one that felt like what Rachel referred to as 'her Quinn,' could recognize that throwing slushies was in no way a good thing. She knew that Rachel's feelings of guilt showed that the diva was still a good sensitive human being. The selfish Quinn, though, was just glad Rachel had done it, also irritated that the diva couldn't focus on her and be happy with that. Quinn did her best to stifle that second side. There would be plenty of time for selfish happiness in private later. Rachel had thrown the slushie, after all.

"Doesn't everyone?" What mattered in the moment, then, was making Rachel happy. Whatever the motivation, however Rachel looked back on this moment, she had bought Quinn more time to work with. That was all Quinn had needed. If Rachel wanted to cry then Quinn would cry with her. If she had wanted to celebrate then Quinn would have celebrated with her. It was Rachel's moment. "Don't you have a right to slip up every now and then?"

"No!" Rachel's face, Quinn could still see it even if Rachel wasn't looking at her, scrunched in confusion. "Yes... I..." She snapped her mouth shut, thinking again. She clearly didn't want to admit that the blonde had any reason whatsoever but Quinn knew her points were persuasive. They were, after all, some of the same justifications that had always served to numb her own tortured conscience. It wasn't her fault. Everyone made mistakes.

The difference was that now Quinn wasn't trying to completely kill off Rachel's sense of right and wrong, just numb it enough to make the repentance process a little less painful.

"Everyone does, Quinn, but I can't," Rachel blurted out. "I-I-I can't afford to ruin things so horrendously, not in the situation I'm in." The brunette finally looked up at Quinn and the blonde's breath caught at the sight of those tearful red eyes. "The other Cheerios don't fool me, Quinn, not for one second. As nice as I'm forced to admit that it is to finally have the sycophants that I had longed for for forever, they don't really want me there. They'd abandon me without a second thought."

Rachel's voice was choked, panicked. She was having a meltdown similar in proportion to the one Quinn had had in her car during the sleepover. She had let her emotions run away with her there and Rachel was, with justification, doing it here. Rachel had persevered, consoled and stroked and kissed, until she had earned Quinn's devotion there.

Quinn hoped she was doing the same here.

"All I really have is you, Quinn, you and the glee club and I only ever had the glee club because of my voice." Rachel's hands were shaky, vibrating as she unloaded her emotional weight. "What do you think they're going to do when they find out what I did to Sunshine, the girl that everyone likes more than me, the girl that apparently sings better than me too?" Rachel quivered, jamming her eyes shut. Tears still seeped from between her eyelashes as she took a deep shaky breath.

"They're going to hate me," Rachel sobbed quietly. "They're going to hate me and then all I'll have left is you." The brunette was being crushed under the weight of her guilt. She was even hunching slightly, shrinking as though some real force were pressing down on her. Quinn had to get under there, had to help Rachel lift the burden. She knew that she could handle it. She had, after all, been carrying the weight of her own sins her entire life. She was more used to it than Rachel.

"All I have is you, angel." Rachel collapsed forward, hands abandoning Quinn's to wrap themselves around the blonde's body, and rational thought fled the blonde for several seconds. It had been, once again, far too long since her last real hug from Rachel and this was something even more intense. Rachel was all but falling on to Quinn, hoping for comfort, hoping for support.

Quinn caught her.

That was all she could do, just gather the clinging brunette in against her. Rachel's collapse was provoking a sensory overload on Quinn's part. Everything that wasn't Rachel in Quinn's vision blurred. All she could feel were the shakes that accompanied the sobbing sounds that filled her ears. The smell of Rachel's perfume, as always, fogged everything else. Quinn knew that she was failing her friend in a sense, that maybe more words were needed than the tender kiss that she pressed into Rachel's hair, but she couldn't help it. Rachel was still healing her.

It was sick, a little twisted, but Quinn thought that she was being helped more than she had helped her friend. Rachel didn't hate her. Rachel, after having been pushed off the edge, didn't blame Quinn but herself. She still forgave, still cared about, still needed Quinn. She probably shouldn't have, Quinn had been nothing but a bad influence, but the blonde was unspeakably happy anyway. She was going to help Rachel now too. She'd do it after a few more breaths of that intoxicating aroma, after a few more seconds of her lips on Rachel's head, after the question that her selfish side couldn't let pass.

"Is that enough?" Quinn mumbled into the chocolate strands of her best friend's hair. It was a terrible question. She knew it. She was also entirely powerless not to ask it. There with Rachel in her arms, hers, definitively hers, she felt like she had enough. Rachel there wrapped around her was enough. That friendship was all she needed. That friendship and the knowledge that it was all Rachel needed too.

Shivers racked the tiny girl's frame, muted only by the firmness of Quinn's body. Quinn wondered, for a moment, if Rachel was even rational enough to give her an answer. Focus wasn't an easy thing when your world was crashing down around you after all. Then, though, the brunette nodded against her shoulder and Quinn's world froze again.

She hadn't actually expected Rachel to answer yes.

It was easy for Quinn to be content with this. She had nothing, nothing important anyway. A manipulative father, a drunken mother, and the fickle adoration of McKinley High meant nothing in the long run. Rachel had everything. She had fathers who loved her, plans for the future, a talent that guaranteed success. How could she be happy just with Quinn's friendship? It didn't make sense. The only conclusion that kept her world from unravelling was that she was only talking about this moment, this miserable period of high school. Quinn was enough to keep her happy there.

"It shouldn't be," Quinn said even though her heart was beating fast and she was fighting off a smile. Rachel shouldn't have had to content herself with just one friend. She should have wanted more than just Quinn. The blonde moved one hand up to Rachel's hair, leaving the other possessively pressed against the brunette's back. "You deserve more, and I'm going to help you get it."

"Despite what I," the word tasted acrid in Quinn's mouth but she pushed forward with the truth, "spent so long trying to teach you, Rae, you do have a right to make mistakes." She stroked absently as the other girl quivered against her. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the moment when she could reciprocate all the help and gentleness she had received. "I'm pretty sure that the other kids in glee are more forgiving than you think. They let me in, after all. All you have to do is apologize and promise them that it'll never happen again."

"Never?" Rachel asked tremulously, daring to look back up again. Quinn understood that she was asking about the Cheerios, about things like the list, about the things that had opened the door and pushed her in to tripping up so gravely. She was asking if she would have to do it again.

"Never again," Quinn repeated, promising. They were going to try their hardest to make sure that the situation never came up again, that things would change. Quinn had only needed Rachel to subject herself to this once. She already had plans to get Santana and Brittany's support and the other cheerleaders would follow like sheep if enough pressure were applied. If, though, they couldn't move quickly enough and Rachel's name appeared on that list again then Quinn would do whatever it took to keep her friend from falling like this again. She'd throw the slushy herself and lie if she had to. Rachel would stay safe.

"But how can you promise me that?" There was something in Rachel's voice that one word hadn't been enough to reveal. "How can you say that when for one instant, one terrible little instant, I-I-I felt... good seeing Sunshine like that? I still start getting mad, furious really, every time I think about her. There's this flaw in me, Quinn, and we can change the Cheerios and the school but I don't know how you can promise to protect me from me."

"Well I will." Quinn said curtly. She didn't like hearing Rachel talk about herself that way, as though she were irreparably damaged. The girl had made one mistake. It was almost prideful, the way she was blowing it out of proportion. Rachel was willing to overlook mountains of past transgressions on Quinn's part but unable to move past her own. "I won't let you do it again, Rae. I don't think you'll try, I trust you more than that, but I won't let you hurt yourself again. And..."

Quinn breathed deeply, trying not to lose herself in her friend's eyes. She could see hope there now, trust in her friend, but she wasn't quite done. "And I know I can do it because you've done it for me. Just think about how much better I've gotten since we became friends. A few weeks ago I wouldn't have known how to start trying to make you feel better, Rae. I wouldn't even have cared. It's you that's helped me escape myself."

"Let me help you with this," she pled, surrendering to the magnetic pull of those eyes. She leaned in, idly noting the way Rachel arched backward expectantly, and pressed a kiss to the lid of one eye as it flickered closed.

"Don't cry," she whispered, smiling despite herself. There were tears in her eyes too now but actually doing something to help Rachel felt good. Quinn shifted slightly, salty residue of Rachel's tears still on her lips, and kissed the other eye as well. "They'll forgive you."

They stood there for a long time in silence after that. Quinn could have stood there even longer. She contented herself tracing patterns in Rachel's hair, just breathing deeply and allowing time to lose meaning. Quinn was lost, Rachel was clearly much better than her at the whole consolation and comfort deal, but she felt like she might have worked something out after all.

Rachel hadn't been corrupted, first off and most importantly. She had done as Quinn wanted but come out with her morals intact. She hadn't given in to rationalization or the fleeting pleasure of the awful act itself. More than that, she had lifted Quinn up again. A few days earlier Quinn hadn't even considered questioning the hit list. Now she was going to help bring it down.

Rachel was still Quinn's friend too. The blonde had worried about a potential backlash towards her. It was baseless. Rachel always forgave, always cared, even when Quinn knew she didn't deserve it.

Rachel was happy again, or at least calm.

The quavery sobs had ceased. The brunette girl was presently engaged in nuzzling more securely against her Quinn, her angel. Quinn felt her joy, and maybe her ego, swell just a little bit as she realized that this was what Rachel referred to as 'her Quinn.' Rachel's Quinn took care of her, sought her, and showed her sense when she went astray. Rachel's Quinn did for Rachel the same thing that Rachel herself did for Quinn.

"Go and apologize, Rae," Quinn said eventually. "Explain if you have to. You can tell them it was my fault if you want." She loosed her hold, letting Rachel go to do what she had to do. "The sooner the better." She started to back away a little. The look on Rachel's face was resolute. Quinn didn't know if her friend had forgiven herself but at least she knew what she had to do.

"Wait, Quinn, I..." Rachel started haltingly as Quinn continued to distance herself. "Don't go yet. I want to do something for you too."

Quinn just shook her head, smiling. "You've already done more than you needed to." Rachel hadn't had to forgive her, hadn't needed to become her friend, certainly hadn't needed to slushy anyone for herself. Rachel had done almost nothing but things for Quinn recently.

"No," the girl disagreed stubbornly, "I haven't. This wasn't for you, Quinn." She was only thinking about what had just happened though. Quinn would have been more concerned if Rachel really thought she had done nothing for her. "This was for Sue and the Cheerios and my own ego but you had nothing to do with it. I'm going to do something for you now."

"You asked me for something during the sleepover and I told you that I'd think about it." Quinn couldn't remember what that something was but she decided it was better to just amuse Rachel for the moment. "Well I've made a decision. My fathers are going to be out of town this coming Tuesday and, in addition to the fact that I find it rather unnerving to be alone in my own home, I believe that would be an ideal opportunity to begin your tutoring."

"What?" Quinn asked, still lost.

"You confided to me, Quinn," Rachel explained simply, "that you are in possession of the coveted position of Trouble Tone soloist." The brunette's rapidly returning verbosity further calmed some of Quinn's worries. If Rachel could still ramble then she'd be ok. "I made a comment about the quality of your voice which you, unfortunately, didn't believe and in response you asked me to teach you. Remember?"

Quinn stared dumbly for a moment. Sunday seemed a long time ago and quite far away after the stress that the week had already offered up. She nodded slowly as memories of Wal-Mart and journals and pertinent conversations wandered into her mind. She had asked that of Rachel.

"Well, we're going to start Tuesday. We'll have a..."

"Really?" Quinn asked, finally understanding what Rachel was offering. She was smiling at the brunette. It was a good offer. It was something that would legitimately help Quinn. She was suspicious of Rachel's motives.

Rachel had just slushied the New Directions' soloist and here she was offering help to the Trouble Tones'. That didn't seem like she was confident in receiving forgiveness to Quinn. It seemed more like she was just going to focus more on consolidating her hold on the one sure thing she did have, her best friend.

Quinn didn't argue. If Rachel had wanted to trade sides entirely it would have been fine by her. She'd just add supporting Rachel in glee to Santana and Brittany's workload in the meantime. They held more weight in the club than most people gave them credit for and that should have been especially true after the split.

"Yes, Quinn. My teammates can hardly fault me," so Rachel had caught on to the question beneath Quinn's question, 'for helping my best friend with something as insignificant as Invitationals. As I was trying to say, you can show me the proper execution of what's known as a 'sleepover,' which I understand is different than a slumber party, and I can lend you the experience of my seventeen years of expertise. It'll be perfect."

Quinn nodded again, words failing her. A sleepover, Rachel wanted a sleepover. She wasn't opposed to the idea, which was why her head was agreeing for her, but it was going to be complicated. She was probably going to have to lean on Santana again, tell Russell that she'd be staying at the latina's house, and she felt like she was relying far too much on that volatile foundation. Just that day she had planned three different things for her power hungry friend. Still, Brittany wasn't capable of the deception necessary to fool Mr. Fabray and telling the truth was right out. All Quinn could do was be grateful that she had until Tuesday to work that out.

"Good," said Rachel a little hesitantly, probably confused by Quinn's nonverbal answer, "We'll finalize things before then, then." She took a few steps forward, brought a hand to Quinn's cheek, and guided the other girl down for a parting kiss on the cheek.

"I'll see you in practice today, angel."


	35. Pretending:Chapter 19p1:Cereal Troublep1

A/N 1: I still don't own anything. Glee continues to be the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy and/or Fox Entertainment

A/N 2: Thanks to pudge05, LezSophie and alwayscrimson for following the story and monaro248 for following me as an author! If you ever have constructive feedback of any sort feel free to join in and leave a PM or review! Thank you all!

Thanks to Linksys for reviewing. Your words of support, short and precise as they were, are greatly appreciated. I'm glad you liked the chapter and hope you continue liking the myriad chapters that are yet to come. Thank You!

Thanks to LionAgron for following the story and leaving a concise review. It was really more of a request and one with which I will most certainly comply. More is on its, incredibly slow, way. Thank You!

A/N 3: On that note, and as you may have noticed from the extreme delay for this update, my access to the Internet is limited again. It will continue this way until about June, when I'll be able to return to my native country. Thank you for your patience. Enjoy the story!

~Quinchberry

Pretending: Chapter 19p1: Cereal Troublep1

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"Q!" Quinn jumped as a megaphone assisted shout assaulted her ears. "Stop right there, blondie!" She might have been used to the titanic sound out on the field, where the openness actually diluted the soundwave to some degree, but within the hallways of McKinley the sound was both a surprise and amplified by a cacophony of echoes. She slowed to a stop, the deceleration as much a product of momentary disorientation as one of conscious obedience.

Within seconds Sylvester had Quinn by the shoulder, hauling her down the same hallway she had been walking down anyway. The blonde girl wasn't sure where she was going now but she had been heading to Trouble Tones practice. It had been a day since Rachel's fortunate meltdown, the diva had shown up to Cheerios practice without further complaint, and Quinn had been looking forward to practicing in relative tranquility.

It looked like that wasn't going to happen.

"With all due respect, Miss Sylvester," Quinn began her complaint, trying to keep pace with her coach as they blew past the theater doors. If she had been anyone but Quinn Fabray the intent would have been useless. Rachel didn't know how to handle Sue yet. Nobody else ranked high enough for Sylvester to give them the time of day. Only Quinn had a chance of wriggling out of... whatever it was that Sue wanted. "I have to get to practice."

"Miss Corcoran will be waiting for me." That was certain. Rachel's mother didn't seem like a fan of kowtowing or rolling over for bullies like Sue. Quinn didn't expect any excused tardies from the Trouble Tones coach just for being on 'Cheerios Business.' Even worse was the fact that Shelby had assigned Quinn a mountain of homework, something like twenty solo posibilities to start rehearsing, after their practice on Wednesday. She'd be wanting to check up on those as soon as possible.

"I know," Sue grinned down at her pupil. She had, mercifully, mounted the megaphone on her belt now. "That's why we're heading there, Q."

Quinn's heart rate jumped. She had turned in the New Directions' setlist to a hellishly gleeful Sue in Cheerios practice the evening before but, beyond one of the coach's characteristic quips, there had been no immediate response. Practice had continued as normal and Quinn imagined that, as the cheerleader assigned to the matter, she would have heard if Sue had taken some action involving glee. Maybe now was that moment. Maybe now Sylvester would work out a pact with Shelby and the membership problem would resolve itself.

"But, Miss Sylvester," if that was the case, though, then why were they getting further away from where the practice was held? The door was several seconds behind them and shrinking away with every step. "We've passed the theater."

"Yep," Sue's normal manic cheeriness was in full force which meant, at least, that she was in a good mood. She should have been. Quinn didn't know the specifics of what Santana had been assigned to do with the football team but the squad was learning its routines with trademark Sylvester efficiency and things were progressing with Rachel and glee exactly according to plan. Quinn would have been happy in the coach's position as well. "Did you just figure that out? You're slow today, Fabray."

"The Trouble Tones meet in the theater," Quinn pointed out, exasperated. Sue was dragging her towards a pair of doors that led outside. Shelby, Beth, and some much needed coaching were waiting and the blonde did not have any patience for the older woman's antics. If Sylvester had listened to Quinn and decided to help the Trouble Tones then that was good. If not then she needed to let her student go.

"Yep," repeated Sue, bringing Quinn through the doors, "that's why we're going there."

"What?" Quinn couldn't retain the dumbstruck question. Sue was escaping even her practiced capability to handle now. All that was left to her was a mystified exclamation or two.

"From what I understand, Q," the cheer coach didn't even condescend to look at Quinn, "despite the tragedy that's playing out on the stage you call a home you aren't familiarized with the bowels of McKinley's theater. You shouldn't be. As you know, drama, stage crew, and mid-production phantasmic murders are all strictly forbidden to my Cheerios." The woman motioned towards a nondescript door in the wall. "That's a back way in under the stage, Fabray."

Quinn quite literally bit her tongue rather than try to respond to Sue again. If they were heading to the theater that was all she needed to know. Maybe Shelby would be more forgiving of a brief tardy than a complete absence.

Sue produced a massive key ring, metal jangling noisily as the keys themselves clacked together, from her tracksuit and effortlessly slid the first key chosen into the lock. Quinn followed the insane woman inside, stooping slightly to avoid catching hair or head on the supports. Sue, somehow, seemed to know her way through the jungle of machinery, beams, and unused props and it was all Quinn could do to follow her. The girl could hear the powerful notes of Shelby's piano filling the crawl space and the stomping feet of students overhead, though far too disorderly to be a routine, made it clear that practice had already begun.

"Fog machines," Sue ordered, pointing, while Quinn was still picking her way through to the relatively open space where her coach waited. The woman was on top of some kind of platform and, even in the darkness, Quinn could make out the outlines of a trap door over Sue's head. The cheerleader stooped to collect the two black machines that Sylvester had pointed out after getting over the last beam. They were surprisingly heavy but, with a little bit of time, Quinn hauled them to rest at her coach's sneaker-clad feet.

"Start them," Sue continued her curt instruction. Quinn tried to step up onto the platform for easier access, quiet compliance was the best way to assure Sue's helping the Trouble Tones for now, but the woman pushed her off and she went sprawling backwards.

"Are you crazy, Q?" Quinn heard as she collided with the floor, hand moving immediately to check at her smarting back. "There's not enough room on here for you, me, two fog machines, and the massive gut Betsy left you with." The cheerleader ground her teeth but it was more at the extra slur about Beth than any sort of pain. The floor was hard concrete, yes, but she hadn't hit her head on either that or any of the metal supports so all that was going to end up bruised was her pride. "We have to fit through that hole in the ceiling and I'm not going to shove you through when your stretch marks get caught on the edges. Now, start the fog machines before your precious practice ends."

"Yes, coach Sylvester," Quinn exhaled in frustration. She longed to get abovestage to Shelby's, still dictatorial but at least sane, leadership. She rose to her feet, wincing a little as her legs smarted, and stooped to press the buttons on the two machines. The nozzles were pointed upwards and a gout of sickly-sweet smelling smoke narrowly missed Quinn's face as it rocketed up around Sue.

The woman smashed her hand down on a button and a great deal of the machinery sprang to life. Quietly, as was appropriate for theater equipment, the trapdoor began to rise and slide away and the coach was lifted into the air. The woman was posing: hands and arms spread just away from her sides, legs spread as well, and head staring directly upwards.

"Miss Sylvester," Quinn realized something important, "how am I supposed to get out?" As the coach had said, she had absolutely no experience with the shadowy maze below the stage. If Sue was so set on making her perfect entrance that she wouldn't allow Quinn on the lift then the girl needed her own way out.

"There's a staircase backstage," Sue said without signalling where backstage might be. "If you're fast enough you might even get up in time to witness my glorious arrival. Now shh."

"But, Miss Sylvester,"

"Shut up, Q! If they hear you you're going to ruin the moment and, I promise you, you do not want that." Sue's voice was deadly serious and Quinn, rather than attempt any further protest, chose to turn and start searching. There was some light filtering down from abovestage now that the trap door was opening, tinted blue by the shiny tracksuit of the mad coach, but the girl still had to fish her phone from her pocket for some extra illumination. Focusing as best as she could she could only just make out the outline of what looked like a staircase.

The process of getting to that outline was even more difficult than finding her way to the center of the disaster, then she had at least been able to follow Sue, and it left Quinn plenty of time to think. She couldn't tell if her coach was in a good mood or a bad one. As usual, it was difficult to tell if the woman experienced human emotions at all. Sue snapped from happy to angry to witty to serious and back to happy again so quickly that she was impossible to keep up with.

Quinn had normal emotions though, no matter how deep she had had them buried a few weeks ago, and in the moment she was mad. She was filled with the same kind of impotent rage that she usually felt towards her father. It was infuriating that Sue could mistreat her, make cracks about whatever she wanted, and just walk all over everyone in general. Quinn's frustration mostly had to do with her own, just past, experience but there was room in her heart to start hating the same system that held her up on its own merits.

Sue's, admittedly Quinn-tuned, regime was what had kept Rachel miserable for so long, what had kept her from being able to work around the blonde girl's irrational dislike until just weeks ago, what had pushed her into a miserable choice just days ago. Even if Quinn felt nothing for the rest of the students at the school then she could oppose the hierarchy for her best friend's sake. Students shouldn't have had to get slushied, swirlied, bullied. That was the world Russell and Sue lived in, the world they were pushing with unreasonable amounts of success on to the next generation. Children shouldn't have been forced to deal with people like them.

However, Quinn was.

It was, as usual, her own fault. Her old sins wrapped around her legs and dragged her down, keeping her from making the stand she would have liked. If she hadn't kept Rachel from reaching the popularity she might have attained on her own then Sue wouldn't have had her dangling by a thread. If Quinn had waited, controlled herself, and given Beth the home she deserved then she wouldn't have needed to steer her coach towards helping the Trouble Tones. Quinn couldn't stand up to Sue because her best friend and her baby were both on the line or, at least, their presence in her life was. The blonde cheerleader couldn't lose that.

So she had stayed quiet just like always. After years of practice she had gotten rather good at it. Ignoring justice for personal gain had always been a specialty of Quinn's. Ignoring justice and personal offense for those close to you wasn't that much different.

She knew that she was getting closer to the stairway, and that it was indeed a stairway, because the indistinct sounds started to congeal into bickering voices. It hadn't taken the girl that long to get over, not in comparison to the slow speed Sue had set the lift to, and it seemed like Shelby had only recently gotten over her shock at the coach's stunt. Quinn wove her way through the last few beams, rounding her way on to the stairs as her coaches bickered.

"... Someone could have gotten seriously hurt! We were practicing and you, without warning, opened a hole in the middle of our space." If Quinn felt mad then Shelby sounded positively livid. Her practice had been interrupted, her inexperienced soloist was late once again, and the few students she had had just been placed in danger by the overdramatic whims of a madwoman. She had every right to be livid.

"Practicing?" Sue responded, as unruffled as she always was when she had things under control. "I only came up because I heard the chaotic pounding and thought that the water system had had a massive leak." Quinn got abovestage and headed for the curtains.

"Sue, someone could have died. Did you think about the possibility of somone falling and breaking..."

"Euthanasia, a mercy killing for all parties involved." Sylvester plowed straight over Corcoran's objection. "They won't have to perform any more musical versions of the Bataan death march and we won't have to hear the discordant, banshee like, tones of their sour voice. That goes double for you, Motta." Quinn edged out from behind the curtain just in time to hear Sugar's frustrated huff. Even the spoiled girl had learned to what extent someone could stand up to Sue.

"I swear to God, Sue," Shelby was souring quickly and Quinn doubted that her glee coach had ever been keen on having her practice interrupted. The blonde girl realized that they might be esging close to a disaster, that if Sylvester's crazy shifted from smug to anything else then the Trouble Tones would be losing a potential opportunity, and she edged forward. "If you place any of my students in danger then I will bring you before the school board."

"It's a date, Sybill. As chairwoman of that same board I'll certainly pencil in a few minutes for your pointless little tirade. I'll even loan you one of the Cheerios' speakers at a generous rate if you want to include a musical number. As far as complaints concerning me are concerned, though, we're booked solid until about March. How does that sound?"

Shelby just stared, a normal reaction for those who didn't have to work with Sue on a regular basis, until she noticed Quinn. "Miss Fabray, you're late, again. Vocal warmups until I say otherwise."

"Miss Cor..."

"I didn't ask you to speak," Shelby cut off Quinn's intended intervention. "Warmups, now. You'll be staying after practice to make up for lost time." The cheerleader retreated towards her customary position, by the side of Beth's crib, as she began her runs. It didn't look like anything was going to get between Sue and Shelby.

"Woah, easy there champ," the cheer coach spoke condescendingly. "Q here is with me." Quinn would have ignored the conflict, she was getting sick of worrying about things beyond her control, but she couldn't. There was too much potentially at stake. It seemed like only Sue's support would push the club into qualifying at regionals. There was no guarantee that the woman's presence meant that that would be granted but antagonizing her obviously wouldn't help anything. Even Beth was tense and whimpering from the atmosphere of conflict.

"No," Shelby answered and the momentary expression of sheer disbelief that crossed Sylvester's face was priceless. No other teacher, except maybe Mr. Schuester, would have stood up to the cheer coach so directly. "During this time, when your cheerleaders..."

"Cheerios."

"Whatever are not in session and the extracurricular calendar gives an option for glee clubs instead, Miss Fabray is not 'with you.' She's mine and I do not appreciate you stealing any portion of the extremely short time I've been given to work with my chosen soloist." The other students were all staring as well. Only Quinn was practicing, maybe she was the only one with assigned practices left to do.

"What a lovely unfounded accusation," Quinn thought she might have been the only one to notice the new icy undercurrent to Sue's once again smug tone. "I'm not stealing anything from you, Sarah. I escorted Fabray here."

"So you could pull your..." Shelby erupted for a moment before she could gain any sort of control again. "Look, Sue. I don't have time to waste arguing with you and I can't have you crippling any of my students with your pointless stunts when I don't have enough to qualify anyway!" Beth was whimpering, distressed by the obvious frustration of her 'mother.' Quinn was used to that sound taking abnormal precedence by now but she couldn't stop her practices for it, not now. Anything that would increase Shelby's stress would only damage the Trouble Tones and, by extension, Beth herself.

"Then maybe you should stop monologuing and listen, Miss Trouble," Sue sniped, "because if your pathetic little problem is with the pitiful number of students who have signed on to delude themselves into thinking they have showbiz futures and not with my," the blonde woman stressed the word, "Cheerios captain then I'm your best friend. Is this how you normally treat your friends? It seems unlikely although it would explain why you're still alone in your forties, surviving off of laughable encounters with homosexual show choir directors like Will and adopting the chil..."

"Enough, Sue." Shelby spat out. The woman sounded livid. Quinn could feel the same emotion struggling to express itself in her, the desire to defend both her friends and Beth. It was that same desire to change things that she had only just discovered, with Rachel's help, growing in her. Sue represented everything that was wrong with Mckinley. Maybe Karofsky was the face of the bullies, maybe Figgins displayed the powerlessness of the administration, maybe Quinn herself had been the poster child for the next generation of mistreatment but it was Sue that kept everything the way it was. She needed to be stopped, or at least brought to see the light.

Quinn had to practice though. Even with all her power, all the influence she had managed to amass, she was still a student. Disputes like the one in progress were far out of her league, far out of the league of any of them. That's why the other Trouble Tones hadn't intervened either.

"What are you talking about?" The dark haired woman asked cautiously. She was still enraged, it was still obvious, but she was controlling it. Knowing Sue and having come to know Shelby Quinn could appreciate the effort involved. Anger, real anger not just irritation or frustration, was difficult to swallow.

"This," Sue reached into the neck of her tracksuit, lowering the zipper slightly for better access, and Quinn caught the briefest unwanted glimpse of a pocket like the ones she or Santana had arranged there. A sheaf of papers appeared, rolled tightly into a tube, and the cheer coach fanned them out in her hand so a little of each was visible. Quinn recognized the first one, the New Directions setlist was noticeable thanks to Mr. Schue's handwriting, but the rest were hard to see and impossible to identify.

"And that is?" Shelby questioned in exasperation when Sue failed to proceed on her own.

"Oh, nothing important, nothing a highly occupied Disney-musical-dropout-masquerading-as-a-teacher like you would be interested in." Quinn was certain that now, at least, everyone could hear the dangerous undercurrent in the blonde coach's tone. Subtlety had never been Sue's style and as her desire to be civil waned so would the pretense of friendliness. "It's only the solution to all your problems."

"Of course it is," Shelby was rightfully incredulous. "You've shown me such a great disposition to help in the past after all." The brunette woman did take a few steps forward though, arms crossed, peering at the pages.

"Well," Sue yanked the papers away at the last moment. "If you're going to be like that, Sidney, then I might think that you don't actually want my help. Here I thought that part of the point of your mushy show-off choirs was to make everyone feel valued and all I'm..."

"My name is Shelby!" Shelby snapped, "and, while I'd certainly appreciate any help from any source at this point, it would be a lie to say that I believe that we'll get anything from you. I distinctly remember that you had 'sworn eternal vendetta against the glee clubs of McKinley.' So unless you've had a dramatic change of heart, in the which case I would ask you to stop wasting time and get on with it, please get out. Now,"

"Fine," Quinn's heart dropped a notch as Sue moved back to the square of her trapdoor. Why did the cheer coach have to be so ridiculously conflictive? "It's clear that I'm not wanted here. I guess my voice just isn't appreciated. Nah, let's be honest. I didn't really want to be here to begin with. It was really a terrible idea. I have no idea where it came from." An icy stare straight at the practicing blonde made it clear to Quinn, at least, that the coach hadn't actually forgotten.

Quinn had suggested a league between the Cheerios and the Trouble Tones. Well, Shelby had probably suggested it earlier but the amount of weight she carried with Sue was obvious. If Quinn hadn't suggested anything then it was likely that the new club would have just been treated as another New Directions, less even since they weren't even going to qualify on their own. It was likely that Sue had never really given thought to the matter until the blonde girl brought it up.

Quinn had felt pretty good about that. She had imagined herself as the secret savior, to some degree, of the club and her daughter. That had just changed in an instant. The experience had converted itself in an unpleasant one for Sue and, rational or not, there was no doubting who she blamed for it. If the woman left now then not only would the Trouble Tones' desperately needed help disappear but Quinn herself would fall in hot water thanks to the failure of 'her' idea.

But what could she do?

"Belowstage, Fabray," Sylvester ordered, kicking the fog machines into life once again to fill the stage that had only recently cleared of smoke and posing in that same ridiculous position. "Bring me down."

"Quinn has to practice," Shelby said curtly. She switched her attention to the girl. "Stay there."

Both women stood there, staring at Quinn. Sue had spoken and she wasn't accustomed to ordering more than once. Shelby had spoken last; she had no reason to continue urging Quinn along. The girl became aware of all the other students watching with interest as well.

Any other student would have felt self-conscious. Even Quinn felt a little strange, normally in glee all eyes stayed glued to Rachel or Kurt or at least Mercedes, but she was the queen. Everyone else watched her incessantly in all other environments. If it was her turn to get the same treatment in glee for a while she would survive. She was used to it.

Instead of pushing her into embarassment the world seemed to slow. Everyone was waiting for her to make a decision, it felt like a decision at least. Sue would not take kindly to direct disobedience from her captain. Shelby, although Quinn didn't have as much personal information, seemed to be at a breaking point. Was she going to choose the Cheerios, popularity, and her present mission with Rachel or the Trouble Tones, some true potential friendships, and Beth. Those seemed to be the future consequences echoing out from this pivotal moment.

The fan of papers in Sue's hand, moving nearly in slow motion as the coach waited, called the girl's attention again. She was certain that that had been Sylvester's insane gesture of goodwill, that that was going to resolve the membership problem. That was why she had bitten her tongue and waited. They had been so close. Then Sue's insanity had collided with Shelby's pride and everything had gone to pieces.

Was there a way to pick those up, a happy hidden third course of action?

Was it safe to try one more time?

If it wasn't, was it worth the risk anyway?

Quinn was about to find out.


	36. Pretending:Chapter 19p2:Cereal Troublep2

A/N 1: I own nothing. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and/or Fox Etertainment

A/N 2: Thanks to Psysk, holdmetonight, shufflefish, Secretfan19, and snappitback for following the story. I hope you realize the mess you've gotten yourselves into. I may be one of the slowest updaters on earth. I'll keep going until I either finish or I'm dead though. Thank You All!

Thanks to swimmer12 and entay70 for favoriting the story. I hope you're willing to see Quinn along to the end of her road. Heaven knows the girl could use some more friends. Thank You Both.

Thanks to Destructive Darling for both following and favoriting the story. You'll be pleased to know that you, in particular, kicked me into making this mini-update. Thank You!

Special thanks to bubbies for leaving a brief review. Your loyalty and commentary are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy the resolution to the cliffhanger. Thank You!

A/N 3: Again, short chapter segment after a long period of time. Sorry about that. This chapter will most likely end up being 4 parts, each rather brief. In a few months, though, I will have more time on my hands and more complete updates will be more regular. Thank you for your patience.

Pretending: Chapter 19: Part 2 Cereal Trouble part 2

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

"Miss Sylvester, Miss Corcoran, with all due respect," Quinn took a step forward, away from her daughter's crib. She didn't wobble, neither in pace nor tone, as she drew closer to her coaches. To have done so would have shown weakness, something sufficiently dangerous in any encounter with Sue Sylvester and especially with so much on the line. Confidence was key when dealing with adults. With it it was possible that they'd treat her as an equal. Without it she was just another inexperienced kid leagues out of her depth.

But Quinn could project confidence.

"You aren't focusing on what's really important." Staring down the potential loss of either her Cheerio power or her connection to Beth or both wasn't all that different from risking Karofsky's fist in her face. Though her heart was pounding she didn't have to seem fazed. Russell had taught her, unintentionally, how to hide herself.

"Miss Fabray," Shelby's eyes were icy, staring sternly at her pupil. It was almost strange seeing those brown eyes, identical to the ones she had passed on to her biological daughter, full of negative emotion. Over the last several weeks Quinn had gotten used to happiness and light in Rachel's eyes. "I told you to practice until I said otherwise."

"Let her go, Cindy," Shelby's eyes only twitched towards Sue for one irritated moment, "I have an exit to make." The women didn't understand. Quinn couldn't blame them, she hadn't explained, but Shelby and Sue both thought that she was choosing Sue. They thought that she was going belowstage to comply with the cheer coach's order. That wasn't the case. Quinn's planned course of action wasn't to pick or choose which set of things she couldn't live without. It was an all or nothing gamble.

"She has a song to practice," Shelby asserted.

"She's not going to have anything to practice with you," Sue responded, still posing.

"I think that's really up to her to decide." Quinn took several more steps forward as Shelby spoke, heading for the point just between the bickering women.

"And, obviously, she's going to be choosing the squad that's..."

"Look," Quinn interjected, cutting Sue off and earning an angry look from both women, "this shouldn't be about me!" It felt strange to say. Fabrays were always supposed to be the center of attention. Quinn had accustomed herself to the social limelight. Right now, though, they had turned her into a point of conflict. It was scarcely about her anyway. She was just the pawn that represented Sue's pride and the survival of Shelby's club. Permitting them to fixate on her would only cause harm.

"Then what should this be about?" Shelby asked curtly. It only made sense that she was more willing to listen to reason. Sue still looked resentful from having been interrupted, eyes glittering dangerously. "You're my soloist."

"My captain," Sue emphasized.

"I have neither the time nor the people to train someone in your place for Invitationals." Shelby explained, directing herself more towards Quinn than Sue now.

"Then you should have invited a few more people, shouldn't you?" Sue smirked, features set cold in a hard humorless leer. "Q's RSVP is going to be a definitive no." The only positive sign from the cheer coach was that she had lowered her head from her ludicrous pose, engaging more fully in the conversation.

"You can either make this about me," Quinn chose to answer Shelby's question. Allowing Sue to guide the conversation would get them nowhere productive, "and force me to make a choice that'll leave just about everyone here unhappy." The blonde girl included her silent club-mates in that statement. If a choice were forced she would have to return to the Cheerios, abandon the Trouble Tones. Russell would never let her fall from the squad again. Even if Kurt and Mercedes might have been coveting her solo they were smart enough to realize that one member less was a bad thing.

"And the other option?" Shelby asked when Quinn paused to think through what she was about to say. This had to be her presentation. She had to convince both women with her reasoning. She had to appeal to Sue's lust for power and Shelby's drive to win and she only had one shot to do it. It merited a little thought.

"We don't have all day." Sue complained, though Quinn wasn't sure if she was talking about the forthcoming answer or her exit.

"You can make this about the clubs," Quinn answered simply. She didn't pause too long. The statement needed elaboration. Both teachers already thought they were talking about their clubs when they were really just stuck on Quinn. She wasn't absolutely essential for the success of either club. Coming to an agreement was, at least for the Trouble Tones. "Even if you can't get along you at least need to remember that you have a common enemy."

"Miss Sylvester," Quinn directed herself towards her first coach. The woman needed to be more involved, "do you remember what I explained to you last week?Which glee club is draining Cheerio funds?" The tactic she had chosen was as old as strategy itself. If she could get her teachers to focus on a shared enemy then the differences between them wouldn't matter so much. It was the point of having an unpopular class in the social hierarchy. It was Russia and the United States teaming up against the Axis forces. It was the unifying principle that Quinn needed.

To some degree it was the same thing that Quinn had always been doing. Rachel, without mentioning Kurt and everything else that represented the gay community, had been her common enemy before. She had been the persistent target of bullying and slushies and popular spite for years. Her precious New Directions were going to serve as the target now. Quinn knew she would have felt terrible about that if she hadn't already been planning to bring her best friend over to the Trouble Tones. The blonde made a mental note to talk things over with Shelby the same day if everything worked out with Sue.

"Schuester's mouth-breathers," Sue answered somewhat reluctantly.

"And Miss Corcoran," Quinn kept speaking. She had the ball now and she had to keep running. A fumble would be disastrous. She had Sue's factual answer and she didn't want the woman ruining the set up with anything else. Quinn needed an answer, the same answer, from Shelby now. "Who are we going to have to beat at Regionals?"

"The New Directions," Shelby replied. She, unlike Sue, actually sounded interested. That had been expected though. Just about anybody was more reasonable than Sue Sylvester.

The job was, then, to persuade the cheer coach. Nobody else in the room mattered to the crisis at hand. The other students could hardly affect anything, their loyalties weren't in question either, and Shelby would have listened to sense from anyone. The only unique capacity that Quinn brought to the table, the only thing that made her key at that point, was an understanding of how to handle Sue. Maybe Santana could have done it but Santana wasn't there. It was up to Quinn.

"So why are you fighting with each other?" Quinn asked without giving either of her coaches a space to answer. Actually allowing them to bring up their petty argument again would have been stupid. "If you can work together then the New Directions' defeat and subsequent disbandment are practically assured."

"I was under the impression, Q," Sue's almost serious tone did not bode well, "that that was already 'practically assured.'" The blonde girl could feel both Kurt and Mercedes looking at her now. They had both suspected, at one point, that Quinn was only in the Trouble Tones on Sue's mandate. Here the woman was nearly implying it. They couldn't know the exact nature of her assignment, that it had everything to do with Rachel and nothing to do with the Trouble Tones. Even if they could interpret their way past the first concern they might still be preoccupied about their friends in the old glee club. Sue wasn't known for her mercy.

"Does that matter?" Quinn countered, laughing a little in exasperation. She absolutely would not permit this to devolve into a more detailed discussion of her special Cheerio duties. Kurt hearing would be tantamount to Rachel hearing and Rachel hearing would likely lead to the loss of everything she and Quinn had together. Quinn didn't want that. She was interfering to try and save the positive aspects of her life, not lose them. "Will making it a little bit more sure be a bad thing, Miss Sylvester? If you can work together you'll be guaranteeing the safe return of your Cheerio funds."

"And you," Quinn switched focus quickly to Shelby, "Miss Corcoran, will get the support you need to carry on through Sectionals, Regionals, and maybe even Nationals. When we beat the New Directions there's even a good chance that their strongest voices will join up with us. There is literally no downside to a partnership here. You both need to stop worrying about me, I know that I can give my all in both clubs, look at the benefits, and work together."

"And how do you suggest that we do that, Miss Fabray?" Shelby asked. It was a real inquiry though, not a deflection. Maybe the woman had understood that while she didn't know how to handle Sue, Quinn did. "She was hardly welcoming when I went to ask her for help."

"I don't know," Quinn lied. She actually had a very good idea or, at least, a very good hope for the potential alliance between her two clubs. Those papers in the cheerleading coach's hand had to be important. She wanted Sue to introduce it though. She wanted to give Sue the chance to be the hero. That would form a better bond than her pushing a deal on the two of them, "but, if I remember correctly, Miss Sylvester said that she was here to help and that if we needed more people, which we do, then she was our 'best friend.'" Quinn hoped that Shelby could understand the necessity of working around some of Sue's crazy.

"Coach Sylvester," Quinn addressed Sue respectfully, "What exactly are those papers?" This was the risk that Quinn had to take. She had spent all the set up time she could, it was unlikely that the women would have permitted her much more, and now she had to hope that Sue could still try and play nice. Hopefully Shelby would understand that you just had to put up with Sue's eccentricities and hopefully Sue would realize the greater strength of a changed position. It was all hope now.

"This," Sue didn't hesitate, brandishing the first sheet of paper. Her pride wouldn't allow her to hesitate in public, to show any serious thought about someone else's ideas. Her decision had probably been a snap one. Hopefully it would lead to something good. "Is the New Directions' setlist for invitationals."

"So you did leak our setlist last year," Kurt commented, sounding almost uninterested. Quinn frowned as Sue did the same. Was he already resigned to the Trouble Tones present fate? Did he think they were destined to die due to a lack of members? Did he not understand what Quinn was trying to do? He was usually so much more politically adept than that.

"There is no way in hell we're gonna use that," Mercedes said and Quinn actually ground her teeth together. As admirable as her moral fiber was it was also incredibly poorly timed. They could have moved on to the other papers and picked that fight another day. "We don't need to cheat to win."

"How completely unsurprising," Sue retorted, "that the two Cheerio dropouts are just as ungrateful as their new gargling coach of everything that I have done and could do for them. I'm handing you victory on a silver platter and you're throwing it back in my face."

"Actually you're not." Shelby said before Quinn could interject, try to smooth things over. The blonde girl winced. She had tried. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"What do you mean I'm not?" Sue rounded on Shelby, students forgotten.

"I get the feeling you don't know," the brunette woman continued, just a touch more smugly than might have been appropriate.

"What do I not know?" Sue, on the other hand, was falling back to square one. She sounded frustrated, angry, almost lost. The cheerleading coach normally didn't put up with this much opposition in one day. Quinn was surprised that Sylvester hadn't started throwing things. That was her normal response to the worst situations. The blonde girl had all but given up on the chance of an alliance now, it took very little to undo a lot of work with Sue, but with luck she might be able to escape personal retribution now that Sue's focus had changed.

"Nobody gets eliminated at Invitationals," Shelby answered simply. "If you want to play dirty, something which I must admit is not necessarily below me, then you should save it for when it counts: Regionals or Sectionals at the earliest."

"But," Sylvester deflated in an instant, a look of genuine confusion appearing on her face. Quinn, too, was left without words. Maybe she had been necessary, been able to step in when Shelby was losing her cool, but now that things made sense the brunette coach had snatched control back up in an instant. "What in the blazes is the point of a competition if you aren't going to get rid of anyone?" The woman crumpled up her paper, flinging it to bounce wildly off Quinn's head and into Beth's crib.

"To show off," was the next simple answer from Shelby. She was driving the conversation, and now it was a conversation rather than an argument, and Quinn had been nonverbally relegated back to her normal position as a student. The blonde girl was fine with that. It was less risk for her and Shelby seemed to have her head firmly back on her shoulders now. The brunette coach glanced pointedly at the smoke machines, still streaming fog onto the stage, "but you should be able to understand that. Miss Jones was correct: we absolutely will not need the New Directions' setlist at this point in time."

"What you have shown me though," Shelby continued, "and what I must thank Miss Fabray for helping me to see is that there was a legitimate overture of assistance in your actions today. I doubt that a woman of your resources has only one trick up her sleeve. If we can avoid any further interruptions," the woman's eyes passed over Kurt and Mercedes but stayed trained on Quinn for a noticeable amount of time, "I'd like to know what's on those other papers."

"It's a little something I whipped up this morning," Sue's confusion was gone. "I call it the 'Formally Aimed Initiative: Lifting Up Ridiculously Egregious Singers,' or F.A.I.L.U.R.E.S. form." The cheer coach thrust the entire pile of remaining papers at Shelby and, from her advantageous position, Quinn could see that the forms consisted almost more of lines for signatures than actual clauses. "I was thinking about how best to bring the wonderful light of Sue-shine into your dreary lives and this is the program I came up with."

"Oh God, more paperwork," Shelby hissed under her breath, picking disdainfully at the pages. Quinn didn't think that anyone else heard her. Sue, at least, didn't react. "What exactly is this program, Sue?"

"It's a strategic insertion of my danciest Cheerios into show choirs that wouldn't have a prayer without them in order to assure both the popular domination of another subdivision of the school population and the elimination of certain pestering, fund-draining, line-blurring, subversive groups." Quinn allowed herself a small smile now. Those were exactly the motivations she had outlined to her coach in their meeting a week ago.

"So, if I've understood correctly," Shelby spoke quickly, excitement seeping into her voice and eating away at the frustration, "what you're saying is that you are going to permit and possibly even encourage your Cheerios to join with my Trouble Tones?" The brunette woman kept her tone matter-of-fact and professional though and Quinn was impressed with how precisely she had cut through Sue's miscellaneous additions to the matter at hand. Shelby was clearly a fast learner and here, at least, her status as an adult gave her benefits that were out of Quinn's reach. The cheerleader didn't think that Shelby would have much trouble handling Sue in the future.

That, of course, hinged on what Sue was going to do in the moment. Shelby had guided the situation marvelously for several steps now, she had pushed forward and done well when Quinn would have pulled out out of a sense of self-preservation, but that was no guarantee with Sylvester.

"Yes," the cheerleading coach conceded a single simple answer and Shelby laughed. She laughed in a bark of relief and responded.

"Then where do I sign?" She hefted the papers back over to Sue. "I was asking for this a week ago and... Tell you what, let's take this backstage and work it out, ok?"

"Fine," Sue agreed, "maybe it's just the smoke from the fog machines slowly poisoning my brain but I can't think of any reason why not." The cheer coach kicked the machines off and walked off behind the curtains without waiting for Shelby.

"Sugar, Daniel, I want you practicing your steps until we finish. Mercedes, Kurt, practice your duets. Quinn, get back to your warmups. I don't want to hear you stop unless Beth needs your help and, while I'm thinking about it, remember that we need to talk after practice. I have to go. I doubt that Sue likes to be kept waiting."

"I'll be right back."


	37. Pretending:Chapter 19p3:Cereal Troublep3

A/N!: Thank you very much to everyone who kindly let me know that the first time I uploaded this chapter there was a problem... Oops.

A/N 1: I own nothing. All characters and settings are the property of Ryan Murphy/Fox.

A/N 2: Thanks to SSA-Slamsin, kaillou, and carter100 for following the story. Be aware that I am in a bit of an update drought. Things will flow more constantly come June. Thank you all!

Thanks to BlueDragon200 for favoriting the story. As I've said to the rest, it's an honor to be on the favorites list of this website. I'm glad you've liked the story enough to want to keep track of it. Thank you!

Thanks to chivalrousknight5994, Erzsebeth, Legit x Koopa, and JDB89 for following and favoriting the story. If you enjoy what I've written, or even if you didn't, feel free to leave a review. I'm always interested in hearing what I've done well and where I can you all!

Special thanks to helo.cdr for leaving a review. I'm glad you enjoyed the back and forth between Shelby and Sue. I spent a lot of time trying to keep the voices distinct and getting things to come out right. I greatly value your continued support. Thank you so much!

Special thanks to one lovely guest for your concise review. It made me glad to hear that someone else, even someone anonymous, enjoyed the story. To answer your question: another update is coming out right now. XD It's like I've said. I'll have a lot more time starting in June. I'm relying on your patience until then. If you want to ask anything else or even just chat then feel free to drop me a PM. Your anonymity is guaranteed. Thank you so much!

Special thanks to miralinda for a lovely review, as well as following and favoriting the story. I appreciated your questions and constructive criticism. I hope I could answer your questions adequately in the PM I sent you. It was great getting some more decently thought out questions to get me thinking as well. Thank you so much!

Special thanks to bubbies for another splendid review. Such praise, especially when I'm not sure I deserve it, is sublime music to my ears. I don't know much about me having any talent but I do try to put my heart into my writing. Thank you for your support and kind words. Rest assured that I have already planned out those things that you're wondering about. I just want to quickly give you a hint on the last one. Quinn's going to keep feeling more things, the next step is actually imminent, but she's got a long ways to go before she 'gets a clue.' ;) Thank you so much!

Special thanks to fabgleek for their wonderful honest review. I truly do appreciate constructive criticism even when it does hurt. That's how we get better. I do agree with some of what you've said. Especially early on. I realized after several chapters that the relationship I had developing between Quinn and Rachel was more suited to a oneshot or short story than the very very long story I have planned. I have tried to do better in the meantime but I was stuck with the construct I had already created. I do feel like I have gotten better since the beginning and, in any case, I do have a plot mechanic that's going to change a lot of things and give me a chance to better write that dynamic coming up. I'm glad that there are so many things that you like. I'm sorry that it hasn't been the pristine experience that I would like it to be. Thank you very much for your opinion. It has been taken into account. :) If you'd like to talk more openly then feel free to drop me a pm.

A/N 3: I don't think anyone here is stupid enough to do it but... Don't call Sam's number.

A/N 4: Haha! Quinchberry strikes again with an amazingly short update after an astoundingly long period of time! Seriously though, in two months-ish I SHOULD have more time. Until then I'll just keep plodding along. Thanks for your patience everyone. We're going to have one more part in this chapter. Lots of love.  
>~Quinchberry<p>

Pretending: Chapter 19: Part 3 Cereal Trouble part 3

Authors: Quinchberry, Thatmakesyoumyequivalent

Primary Pairings: Faberry, Hevans

Rating: M

Shelby wasn't back anywhere near as soon as she had claimed. That didn't come as a surprise to Quinn, Sue probably wanted to argue over each and every line of her contract, but it was grounds for worry. Quinn still had some concerns about Shelby's ability to handle Sue properly and, on top of that, she had finished her relatively short practice exercises minutes ago and in the absence of adults teenagers had the unfortunate tendency to act their age.

Only a few minutes had passed, enough for Quinn to run through her practices and for Sugar to get bored and wander off, and the remaining fog from Sue's stunt had scarcely cleared from the stage when Kurt spun around dramatically. He looked to both sides, presumably checking for Shelby, before making a beeline for Quinn. The blonde girl sighed quietly, supporting herself against the frame of Beth's crib. Kurt had his 'serious business' face on and Quinn doubted that she was going to like what he had to say. In the seconds before his arrival she wondered how he had bribed Mercedes to let him pause the practice. Maybe he had promised his services as a fashion consultant for dates and dances. Maybe he had made key concessions on the potential part divisions in their duet.

Maybe, despite everything Mercedes had said on Monday, this was the black girl's way of exacting some payback for all the trouble Quinn had caused her on Sunday.

The blonde banished that idea rather quickly. Mercedes had seemed genuine in her apology and Quinn was actually interested in seeing if they could be friends again. It would be best not to dwell on the negative, especially if she wasn't certain about the unspoken speculation. If she had to assign an outright bad motivation to letting Kurt off his Shelby-placed leash then it could have just as easily been outright laziness. Mercedes tended to tire quickly.

"You're living a lie," Kurt's accusation cut into Quinn's train of thought before he was within what could be considered 'conversation range.' He clearly wasn't that interested in keeping this private then. It was about Sam. It had to be about Sam. Kurt hadn't spoken to her about anything but Sam, snippy comments about Rachel, and necessary Trouble Tones business since last year.

"What are you talking about, Kurt?" Quinn didn't raise her voice like he had but she didn't bother hiding it either. Tone was more important than volume in most circumstances and this one called for blank disinterest. She had finished her practice. If she hadn't she would have ignored the boy and kept singing. She was waiting for further instruction from Shelby. He was the one who was breaking protocol and risking punishment. She couldn't look like she was encouraging that. She had already crossed enough lines with Shelby without the woman thinking that she was causing conflict.

"Sam, Quinn," the blonde raised her eyebrows, unfazed. She had called it. "You don't love him and I am not about to let you do to him what you did to Finn last year."

"I wasn't planning on it," Quinn glanced down at Beth to punctuate her point. She loved her baby. She wished that she could have had a better time than just practices to get to know her better. She was going to, thinking about it, talk to Shelby to schedule extra practices for that purpose. She was absolutely not going to get pregnant again. She wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone and she had sworn off alcohol for the rest of her life. Her next child would be born into a stable family, when Quinn had a ring on her finger instead of on a chain around her neck. She smiled mutely, considering egging Kurt on a bit. "Puck isn't even out of prison yet."

"I won't let you," Kurt's eyes bulged at the, frankly ridiculous, implication and Quinn let her smile die back into boredom. It was clear how emotional he was about this now and it wouldn't do to egg him on any more. Shelby would kill her. "You can't do that to someone like him. He's too innocent. Didn't you listen to anything I told you over the summer? Don't you know where he comes from?"

"Where?" Quinn played along passively. That was what was best for everyone involved even if she did doubt Sam's alleged innocence. The boy was playful, that much was true, but playful and innocent were different things. The new quarterback had displayed his capacity to be smooth when he wanted to be and Quinn couldn't forget the way his face had changed when he had discovered that she was the head cheerleader.

That memory suddenly started to bother her. She had just decided that she was going to try and love Sam. She had started with the assumption that Sam was already falling for her, that all she'd have to do was find the emotion in her own heart. What if everything that he had done was just as fake as Quinn's own feelings up to that point?

"Boarding school, Quinn." Kurt said, emphasizing as though that on its own should have meant something. "Dalton, a school with a zero-tolerance bullying stance. My father's even looked into it for me. It's just too expensive. Sam's coming from..."

"Let's assume you're right for a second, Kurt," Quinn cut in curtly. He was rambling and she didn't have the same degree of tolerance towards him that she had towards Rachel now. It reminded her of when Rachel was having her fake-meltdown about Quinn dumping Finn but Kurt's motives were significantly more perverse. The blonde didn't care about boarding school. It might have been important if Sam were more of a dork, and it did explain quite a bit about his behavior, but he wasn't. He was the new football star. Everything was fine. "Let's assume that I don't love Sam and that, despite the fact that he's the quarterback, that I'm actively planning to cheat on him with Puck. Why do you care?"

"Because I love him." Quinn kept herself from cringing. He had admitted that without so much as a trace of hesitation, much more quickly than she would have liked. "Are you even listening to me? Sam is coming from a bubble. It's just not possible that he knows how our school works and, though I can't deny that he has quite efficiently secured his popularity, I'm not going to let it destroy him. I'm ecstatic that he didn't plummet to the bottom like the rest of us. The opposite is worse. I'm not going to let you disappoint him and turn him into a monster like you're doing to Rachel."

That comment rankled and Quinn had to concentrate to keep her face from twisting into a sneer. She was helping Sam. She was helping Rachel. The brunette girl had made one mistake. That was far far away from the monster that Quinn had been a year ago. Rachel was much better than Kurt. Rachel wasn't doggedly pursuing someone who plainly wasn't interested.

"I am helping Rachel," the blonde said thinly. "She's better off now than she ever has been before and she wouldn't have gotten there without my..."

"Oh my God," Kurt sighed in exasperation. Quinn didn't bother finishing her sentence, simply letting the left-over air from her last breath out through her nose. If they kept talking about Rachel she wasn't going to be able to keep her cool. It was a conversation they were going to have to have, especially if Quinn could somehow bring her friend to the Trouble Tones, but it wasn't the right time. It would be best to let Kurt change the subject. "Do you even listen to yourself? You're like a cat with a laser pointer. I'm sorry for bringing her up. This is about Sam. I don't want Sam throwing any slushies, not even once."

"Great, neither do I," Quinn responded, forcing herself to ignore the insult. She didn't want that for Sam. She wanted things to change. If she managed to, with the help of the Unholy Trinity plus Rachel, change the Cheerios then the football squad would naturally follow. Even now that they were starting to win some games the jocks were still second fiddle to the cheerleaders.

"Well that's what's going to happen," Kurt was significantly more emotional than Quinn. He sounded like the world was going to end. "That's what's going to happen when you get bored and move along to the next poor victim. When Sam realizes that you don't actually love him, when he realizes that this is all a stupid game to you, then he's either going to reject the system and go tumbling down or he's going to become someone just like you."

"You keep saying that like you know what you're talking about," Quinn jabbed. She straightened up, taking her hands off of Beth's crib and moving one step closer to the hysterical boy. She didn't love Sam or, at least, she didn't think she did yet but she was trying. Wasn't that enough? "I love Sam and he loves me. You can go ahead and stop worrying about me 'disappointing' him. I'm not planning on it."

"He loves you," Kurt snorted incredulously, "right. Quinn, we've been over this. Sam is gay. He's as gay as Santana or me or you."

"What did you just say?" Quinn hissed, all pretense of calm vanishing in an instant. That was an insult she would not brook, not directly to her face. It didn't matter if Kurt had been listening to hallway rumors or if Santana had mentioned something inappropriate or both. Quinn was not gay and she'd go to hell before she let someone say that she was and escape unscathed.

"I swear, I've had conversations with pillows that listen better than you." Now that Quinn's defenses were down her lip curled of its own accord at the new insult. She was not about to be made a fool of in front of every other member of the club. All the others were, in the absence of something productive to do, watching their teammates exchange words. "I'm only going to say this one more time so prepare your ears, Madame Fabray. Sam Evans is gay. We've flirted before. He knows quite a bit more about our lifestyle than any straight boy would ever care to find out."

"I assume you filled him in," Quinn scoffed. She wasn't gay and Sam had sure as hell better not been gay. They were in a relationship. Quinn had his blasted ring dangling on a chain around her throat. He was, for all intents and purposes, hers.

"I would like to," Quinn's eyes bulged a little. That was a comment that would have sounded more at home in the mouth of Santana than that of Kurt. The boy must have been frustrated. He wasn't angry, Quinn was the angry one in the moment, but something wasn't going how he liked and it had to be something with Sam. What were they doing behind her back? What was Kurt planning? "Rest assured that I know what I'm talking about."

"I don't think so," Quinn forced her irate sneer into more of a smirk. She had remembered something important: the ring. That was irrefutable physical evidence. She could do some investigating later. All she had to do now was speak with confidence, put Kurt back in his place, and remind the rest of the watching Trouble Tones that Quinn Fabray was not someone to be trifled with.

"Please, don't try to argue that what you have with Sam is any more real that what you had with Finn last year." Kurt sounded bored, as though he had already won, but Quinn was starting to see how weak his position really was. She had the ring, she had a way to focus her newborn anger, and he had nothing. This was just flailing born of desperation. Even if he was right, even if Sam were gay and Quinn had intentions of using him only for position, he had nowhere to go with it. Even if he were right what would he expect Quinn to do, just roll over and let go of that asset? The idea was ridiculous.

"I'm not even sure you have real feelings. You had your big romantic make-up with Finn over the summer and that lasted, what, two or three weeks? The quarterback changed and, miraculously, your 'heart' did too. Now you're just so in love with Sam..." Kurt trailed off sarcastically, glaring sardonically up at Quinn as the blonde girl brought the chain up from around her neck.

"Exactly," she asserted, voice more rumbling than trembling with her now-controlled rage. "Do you know what this is?" She displayed the ring, keeping Finn's rose hidden. Kurt didn't need to know about the other charm on the chain.

"A ring, amazing that you need me..."

"Do you know whose ring it is?" Quinn interrupted. She was tiring quickly of the sarcastic quips. She was willing to put up with it from Santana because they had been mostly friends forever. Kurt had never gotten that far into her good graces.

"No," Kurt's eyes widened. There was another difference from Santana. The other cheerleader's eyes would have narrowed. She would have prepared herself for war. Kurt, though, didn't have San's killer instinct. Quinn actually had to fight with her latin friend. Kurt was snarky and, at least to some degree, intelligent but he was outclassed in a battle with someone of Quinn's caliber. "I don't believe you. You're making it..."

"It's Sam's ring, Kurt." Quinn spat. He was stumbling. She would keep pushing till he fell back. "Does your high-and-mighty 'alternative' mindset let you recognize what a ring means to the rest of us normal people? It's a commitment. Sam called it a promise ring. He gave it to me because he loves me and I accepted it because I love him. Ask him if you're too dense to believe what's right in front of you."

"That doesn't make sense," Kurt muttered to himself and Quinn's smirk curled upward, solidifying. He had nothing to answer her trump. "I know he was interested in me. He all but told me so."

"Then maybe next time you should wait until they do tell you so, Hummell. That would save everyone involved a lot of pain. Sam and I are happy together, no gay involved." Sam was Quinn's and Quinn was going to give Sam a real chance. He deserved that much.

"There's the ridiculous part, Quinn." Kurt retorted, the blonde girl raised a brow imperiously. She had already won. There shouldn't have been anything left for Kurt to do. "Maybe, and only maybe, you're right about Sam. As you've so kindly noticed I do have a marked record with these sorts of things. What I cannot believe in the slightest, though, is that you have any real feelings for him."

"Explain," Quinn demanded. She didn't like how that sounded. No matter what it was obviously an insult. The only question was: an insult to what?

"Must I spell everything out for you again?" Kurt asked, trying to regain some of his sarcastic high ground. Quinn was unimpressed. He had nothing to recover, only a lot to lose. If he kept pushing then she had more than just words she could resort to. She had the weight of Sue Sylvester and the Cheerios behind her. She'd... she'd...

It was terrifying how easily Quinn's mind called to her remembrance Rachel's tear-streaked face from the previous day, how crystal-clear she could hear Rachel's whispered 'never?' in her head, how her skin tingled as it remembered how it had felt to kiss away her friend's tears. The anger fought, writhed, and complained. It wanted vengeance. It wanted what it called justice. It hated that the brunette had so thoroughly ingrained herself into Quinn's being but, in the end, the anger didn't matter much.

Quinn couldn't be that sort of bully anymore, not after everything that she had promised Rachel. How could she tell Rachel that she wanted to change things and then go behind her back? She couldn't.

She'd handle Kurt on her own.

"We all already know who you are, Quinn. No one here is going to toady for you." The boy was still talking but it just didn't seem to matter as much. The blonde could practically feel the anger draining out of her. Why did she need to worry about what Kurt thought when she had Rachel? She could still nearly feel her friend there, as though the girl were keeping her from doing something she'd regret. "You lie and manipulate and you control. You're the God damned ice queen."

"And the ridiculous part is that you've melted. Someone's already melted you and it sure as hell isn't Sam." Kurt's voice was almost shrill but Quinn didn't let it in. She just surrounded herself more in Rachel, in the things she had learned from her friend. She had to focus on what was important, on Rachel and on her daughter who was right there. She had to let go of some, not all, of the political game or it would destroy the progress she had made.

"You've been following Rachel around like the lovesick schoolgirl you are for a month now! She looks at you and you lose your focus. She takes your hand and you go wherever she leads you. I mean, I know the female gender is allowed some leeway with physical contact that is tragically denied to me but you two are beyond ridiculous! How can you love Sam when you are so clearly head-over-heels for Rachel?"

Quinn stopped.

She just stopped.

She stopped breathing, stopped moving, lost a great deal of awareness where her surroundings were concerned.

Suddenly being wrapped in Rachel seemed a lot less soothing and comforting and a lot more... smothering. She knew it was stupid, knew that Kurt was just recurring to what he heard, knew that he didn't understand what was really going on just like everyone else, but that helped very little. The anger roared back into existence. Quinn felt like she could have quite literally killed Kurt at that point. There was only one key difference.

Quinn still couldn't do anything. The anger was feeding off the fact that Quinn had only managed to calm herself down with Rachel, yes, but it couldn't overcome it. It was trapped inside the blonde, raging, ranting, and screaming in complete paralyzed silence.

That turned out to be the only thing that saved her.

Quinn was trapped in her own inner warfare, everything that she had been fighting with everything she was learning to be, as Kurt added more fuel to the fire when it happened.

"Rachel herself is certainly..."

"Mister Hummell! Miss Fabray! What in God's name are you doing?" Quinn had heard Shelby frustrated before. She had heard her scandalized and pleading and disappointed before.

She had never had, she realized, the full strength of actual anger from Shelby directed at her before.

"Nothing," the blonde responded, more automatically than anything else. She still didn't know how to respond to Kurt. The frustration wouldn't let it rest and Rachel, well, Rachel wouldn't let her do anything. She just added lamely, "I finished my practice and Kurt came over here and started bothering me." It wasn't a lie and that should have been obvious. They were still by the crib, the place where Quinn and not Kurt had been practicing.

"Is that true?" Shelby asked. Kurt and Mercedes both shrugged as though they hadn't been paying attention and Quinn found room in her crowded brain to vaguely wonder where Sue was. "Never mind, never mind, where on earth is Sugar?"

"I think she went to the bathroom," Daniel answered quietly.

"How long ago?" Shelby's mood had not improved any from her time bargaining with Sue which, in all fairness, only made sense.

"About twenty minutes."

Shelby just stared.

"Hey, Q!" Quinn yelped in surprise as a hand from behind took her by the shoulder and spun her around. "I need your ball-playing boyfriend's phone number."

"Why?" Was all Quinn could force out. Kurt and Shelby and Sue combined were definitely more than she could handle. She was ready for sleep. She was ready for Rachel's sleepover in a few days, though apparently she couldn't think about that either because it just made the anger flare again. She was ready to go home.

It was a shame practice was just starting.

"When I want you to ask me questions I'll give you a copy of the Questionable Understanding In Nattering Ninnies form. Give me the number."

Fumblingly, Quinn retrieved her phone from her pocket. Shelby was still frozen and, glancing over her shoulder, Quinn could tell that the coach's impatient glare was trained on her.

"269-2563," she answered.

"Thanks, Q. Take care. Looks like Miss Trouble's got some words for you." As quickly as she had appeared Sue was gone, ducking into one of the service doors alongside the staircases.

"Everyone, onstage, now." Shelby ordered the moment Sue was gone. "There will be no more wasted time and you, in particular, Miss Fabray are going to call your parents."

"You are going to be here for a long time."


End file.
